Does The Heart Ever Heal?
by TracyLeeT
Summary: Three years ago, Adam left the Ponderosa. Will a chance meeting lead Hoss and Joe to the brother they've lost and release Ben from his depression? What happened to Adam, and will he be able to recover? The sequel to this story is "When Souls Awaken", and will be posted shortly on this site.
1. Chapter 1

**DOES THE HEART EVER HEAL?**

Chapter One

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't. But we'll never know unless one of us asks him!" Joe said, wrenching his hands together.

"Ya don't hafta bite my head off, Joe. You ain't the only one who's rememberin', ya know!"

Joe Cartwright looked into his big brother's sparkling blue eyes and saw within them the mirrored anguish he himself was fighting to contain.

"Sorry. We're all hurtin', 'specially Pa. He's been pacing out on the porch for hours. Why don't ya go ask him. Maybe this time will be different."

Hoss nodded to his little brother, raised his broad shoulders and steeled himself for the task at hand. The front door creaked as he swung it open and the floorboards on the porch groaned as Hoss made his way toward his father.

"Pa? You okay?"

"Yes, Hoss. I'm fine."

"Joe n' me…we're gonna play some checkers. Wanna come inside n' watch?"

"Maybe in a while. You go on. And don't let Joe cheat!"

"I'll try, Pa. I'll try," Hoss promised as his shoulders slumped in defeat.

The dusty wooden planks mumbled once again, the lonely sound of one set of footsteps on their way back inside. Joe had just placed the last red checker onto its starting position. Although he heard Hoss's approach and the click of the front door's latch, his eyes remained locked on the flames writhing in the fireplace, fueled at the bottom with strength but weakening as they climbed further from their source.

"He's not coming in, is he?" Joe asked, sounding like a little boy who'd once again been disappointed by someone important in his life.

Hoss silently shook his head. "No, Joe, he ain't."

"Every year, Hoss! Every year!"

"I know, Joe. I reckon it's the only way he kin git through it. Best ta jist leave 'im alone like we always do."

~~~  
>On the moonlit porch of the Ponderosa's main house, Ben Cartwright stood still and silent, like a monument marking a solemn, sacred spot. His weary eyes glistened with tears; tears he was unaware of until the slightest blink sent them drifting aimlessly down his cheeks. A balmy breeze, a sudden, brief movement next to the barn and the monument flinched as his eyes drew better focus. A swaying tree branch bowing in the wind. Nothing more. His chin dropped slowly, disappointment showing in his sad, brown eyes. He assumed another pose, that of a man aging more rapidly than nature should allow, that of a father absent a part of himself. Ben Cartwright, the successful businessman, a powerful influence in the Nevada Territory, a law abiding and moral man. Ben Cartwright, the father who would give it all away if his eldest son would return home.<p>

Three years had gone by since the day Adam left the Ponderosa. For Ben, most of past three years had robbed his soul of its previously unending capacity to love life, leaving him bitter and hurt, desperate and depressed. As he looked back over the recent past, there were visions of day-to-day life, visions of mindless repetition of the daily chores and responsibilities of running the Ponderosa empire. But these sometimes tedious days were always clouded by the lingering fog left behind when a part of one's heart and soul is missing.

As the first seven months had passed, the letters and packages from Adam arrived regularly, nearly every other week. His letters told of beautiful historic cathedrals, snow-covered, majestic mountain ranges, landscapes overflowing with flowering plants and trees and others that were barren deserts. They recounted colorful tales of the people living in these foreign countries, their similarities and cultural differences. Several spoke of friends he'd made by merely doing the right thing as he'd been taught to do by his upbringing, simple acts of Cartwright kindness.

The packages that arrived carried special mementos for each of his brothers and his father, things that had sparked familial memory, things that would bring a smile, things he'd gathered along the way just so they'd get a sense of his adventures. The letters and packages brought him once again into their lives.

With his hands tucked inside his back pockets, Ben crossed the porch and lowered himself into the old wooden rocker. He glanced at the worn surface of the armrests, remembering a time when Marie sat reading to Joe, Hoss and Adam seated alongside. Instinctively, he reached into his left shirt pocket. His long, calloused fingers gently removed a carefully folded piece of paper. He opened the paper, lifting each section delicately, as if removing petals from a fragile spring flower. He gasped slightly at the sight of Adam's handwriting and a shudder traveled through his body. The content of the letter, though precious and irreplaceable, was not the focus of his consideration. As Ben's fingertips traced the lines of thoughts and dreams across the thick, yellowing paper, his eyes grew blurry with tears. For at the bottom of the paper was Adam's familiar signature-closing, four sentences that could be found at the bottom of every treasured letter he'd sent, sentences that fed Ben's hope that his son had always planned to return home, sentences that prevented Ben from moving forward into a future that did not include his eldest child. The letter ended as they all had: _I miss you terribly. More than I could have imagined. I'll return soon, to the family and the home I cherish in my heart. I love you all. Adam_.

Blinking back his tears, Ben folded the letter with great care. Looking down at the blank rectangle that had just seconds ago transported him closer to his son, a rush of anguish-driven adrenaline pressed hard against his chest. The anniversary of Adam's birth coming to a close, with heavy-hearted resignation, Ben placed the treasured letter safely inside his left shirt pocket. Sitting motionless in Marie's old rocker, he inhaled the cool, crisp night air then exhaled with a sigh as a single tear trickled from his eye.

Around the eighth month after his departure, the packages stopped. The letters arrived less frequently, each one with fewer descriptions, stories and enthusiasm. Adam's closing signature on each eagerly-read letter remained the same: _I love and miss you all, _yet offered no explanation as to why the letters had become so sparse. Eventually, after long months of receiving only a rare letter or two, Adam's final one arrived on May fifteenth, exactly three days shy of the three-year anniversary of his departure_._ Though its brief content was still well-written, as Adam's always was, an attitude of uncertainty prevailed amidst the few words he'd sent.

Now, six months had passed without a word from Adam, and on the eve of what should have been Adam's birthday celebration, Ben sat on his porch for the fourth year in a row watching the empty trail leading from the yard to the main road, wishing that at any moment a familiar silhouette would appear.


	2. Chapter 2

The cool morning air carried the songs of the birds across the wide spaces of the Ponderosa. Already the blue sky stretched as far as the eye could see, like an upside down sea of still waters as clear as Lake Tahoe itself. As Hoss and Joe rode on the buckboard to Virginia City, they thrashed out yet another plan that they hoped would comfort their father, a plan that might begin to heal his injured soul and bring it one step closer to the one they'd known and loved before their eldest brother went away.

"Joe . . . you reckon Pa's afraid Adam . . . well . . . that he might be dead?"

The lump in his own throat gave Joe an inkling of just how difficult it was for Hoss to say those words aloud. Joe knew they'd each battled that possibility privately, not wanting to upset each other, not wanting to cause a rare 'good day' to take a turn for the worse. But his big brother had mustered the courage to speak aloud the unspeakable. The least he deserved was an answer.

"I don't believe that Adam's dead. There weren't many letters those last few months before they stopped altogether. I figured old Adam was havin' the time of his life and just got too busy to write so much." Joe fussed with patch of trail dust that had gathered near his knee. Even after the dirt was gone, he still rubbed at the spot, hoping to delay his thoughts. "And when the letters did stop, I got this feeling like he was in trouble, like we should be ridin' together, you and me and Pa lookin' for him."

The two rode a while in silence, though their minds were full of voices arguing to make sense of a helpless situation.

"I used to think about him every day, Hoss. And there hasn't been a day yet where something happens that I didn't want to run and tell him, even if it would mean listenin' to one of his long 'because I'm older and smarter' speeches. But, I'm startin' to think about him less often, only 'cause Pa's where my thinkin's goin' these days. It's gettin' harder and harder to watch, and even harder to put even a little smile on his face. I mean…he's still right there any time I need him, strong in the moment. Then it's like he's…he's gone again."

The silence returned again as Hoss considered what Joe had said and tried to combine it with his own feelings.

"I think about Adam ev'ry day too. There's times when I wanna hear his voice tellin' me I done good or even that I messed up. I don't know where he is or what's happened to him Joe, 'n' not knowin', I reckon there isn't a dadburned thing we can do! I guess all I do know is we gotta keep tryin' ta help Pa. It ain't right that he's stopped enjoyin' the ranch 'n' all the things he really loves. It jist ain't right."

The rhythmic squeak of the left buckboard wheel filled the quiet as Joe and Hoss Cartwright approached Virginia City.

The growing lump in Joe's throat shook his softened voice with each word and the intensity of his eyes shifted from deep concern to endless regret.

"Hoss? I don't mean to . . . but sometimes . . . I get real mad at Adam for leavin'."

Hoss looked to his left, away from his little brother.

"I know, Joe. So do I."

Doctor Paul Martin's office wasn't the most comfortable place for a meeting of the minds. Neither was Sheriff Roy Coffee's jail. But the ambiance of the place didn't matter as much as the privacy, so at the request of Hoss and Joe, a curious Roy arrived at Paul's office. The room was as close to sterile as any doctor's office could be in a town like Virginia City, but that was alright. Sterility seemed to fit the importance of the matter at hand. Upon stepping inside, both Hoss and Joe revisited memories of being there under all but casual circumstances. Hoss was suddenly transformed into a young teen trying to disappear into the corner of the room, as close to the wall as he could manage. He could feel his little brother's tiny, delicate hand in his as Joe stood beside him in silence. Ben had insisted on helping the hands carry their unconscious brother inside the doctor's examination room. Adam had always seemed indestructible to Hoss and seeing him injured so badly was frightening.

Joe remembered the time one of the hands pounded on the sturdy front door to deliver the grave news from Virginia City. He'd never seen a man's face weighed down with as much sadness and regret. Saddling the horses seemed to take an eternity that afternoon, and Virginia City had never been so far away. Joe felt as if he and Ben might never arrive, might never have to face what waited for them in Doc Martin's office. As he rode next to his father, Joe's chest had felt as if he'd been crushed by a horse, and each time he glanced at his father's face, emotion gripped Joe's heart so tightly he hadn't been able to breathe. He remembered pushing past the small crowd of curious and caring people on the dusty, sunlit street and bursting into the silent waiting room behind his father. Ben had stopped so abruptly that Joe nearly plowed into his wide shoulders. Hesitating to step around him, afraid to see what his father had already seen, Joe stole a glance around his father's frozen form and his knees nearly buckled at what he saw. Blood. Deep scarlet streaked and splashed across Hoss's shirt. Joe had never seen so much blood. Hoss stood there, trembling, as Ben made for the exam room door only to be stopped by powerful hands. A simple shake of Hoss's head confirmed what they all knew; Adam's condition was grim.

Adam's strength had pulled him through those frightening days and many more incidents when every minute of life was counted as a miracle. And here they were today, Hoss and Joe, standing in the same room with two of the same people. Only today it wasn't Adam they were desperate to save. It was Ben.

"All right, we're all here. Now boys, what's this about?"

"It's Pa, Roy. It's real bad again . . . Not that it's ever really gotten better in the past three years. He just mopes around the house . . . Nothin' seems ta help . . . Just seems to stay the same or get worse."

"Well now, Joe, bein' that yesterday was Adam's birthday, it's understandable that your pa would have a day full of rememberin'. Isn't that right, Paul? You know how he was last year. Feelin' depressed 'n' outta sorts. But a few days later, he was, well . . . not so bad."

"I remember, Roy. Boys, there was nothing I could do the first year, or last year, or now. Your pa's in need of help, the kind I can arrange for him if he'd only let me! You know how many times Ben and I have fought about this. I'm afraid that until he's ready to accept help, as his physician, my hands are tied. I can continue being there as his friend. Maybe I haven't done enough that way. Are you sure things won't be better now that Adam's birthday has come and gone?"

"Well, Paul, that's just it. He was in a real bad way yesterday, bein' Adam's birthday, but lately, he just seems to be gettin' worse. He's not eating, he barely sleeps and he doesn't seem to care much about the ranch! We have to do somethin'." Joe's voice pleaded, but it was his eyes that tugged at Paul's heart, the eyes of a scared, young boy in a grown man's body.

"That's right. Jist last week me 'n' Joe sorta . . . Well, we tried ta trick Pa. We purposely let a few things slide at the ranch, hopin' he'd step in 'n' take charge. But it didn't happen," Hoss said as his shoulders slumped and his eyes searched for answers. "All he did was tell me 'n' Joe ta handle things on our own. He didn't even make any suggestions. Nothin'." Hoss turned away, jamming his fisted hands into his pants pockets. "Dadburnit, Paul, that don't sound like Pa now, does it?"

"No, Hoss, it doesn't. I'm sorry boys, but short of Adam riding into the yard, I just don't know what to do!" Paul tinkered with his surgical tools as silence filled the examination room. When he realized his actions were merely a product of his frustration, he tossed the last tool into place and rubbed his aching temples. Grasping blindly for any thoughts that might shed new light on their stalemate, he kneaded the back of his neck as he paced the room.

"Roy, I know when Adam's letters stopped you and Ben both tried everything you could think of to find him."

"That's right, Paul, we did."

"Is there anything else? Any other way to find out where he might have gone?" Paul asked.

"I wish there was, Paul. Believe me, I wish there was. You saw most of them letters. One time he was in England 'n' the next he was in Italy. That boy was flittin' around them foreign countries like butterflies in a meadow of flowers. In the months he was writin', no two letters ever came from the same place, isn't that right boys?"

"Yeah Roy, that's right."

"Joe 'n' me . . . we're startin' ta think . . . Dadburnit, we're startin' ta think we won't ever find Adam." This time, it was Hoss whose face transported Paul and Roy back to a day when he was but a chubby cheeked little boy. The defeat and resignation in his voice tugged at Roy's heart. "Like you said, all them places he was travelin' to . . . Well, we jist ain't gonna find 'em! 'Specially if he's . . . ."

"We know, Hoss. You don't have to say it," Paul said, a comforting hand on Hoss's shoulder.

"Now Paul, hold on there. Maybe he does have ta say it." Roy's raised voice startled them out of their melancholy moment. "Maybe it's time for Ben to realize that if Adam is still alive, well, he'd still be writin' them letters."

"Roy has a point, boys." Paul gently squeezed Hoss's shoulder, dreading what he knew needed to be said. "It's not something any of us wants to say out loud, but we've all been thinking it. Sometimes saying something out loud makes it more real."

"Yeah, well, Paul, I guess I'm just like my pa then 'cause I don't want it to be real!" Joe sprang from the chair, fists clenched, eyes ablaze with fear.

"Simmer down, Joe. Roy 'n' Paul are jist tryin' to help."

"Don't you tell me what to do! That's Adam's job! Adam's and Pa's! Not yours! And I've already lost Adam and now," Joe yelled, his voice cracking with long-buried grief, "now I'm losin' Pa." Joe swiped his hat from the nearby table, nearly knocking over a tall, ornate oil lamp, and marched toward the front door.

"Joe! Hey, Joe! We're ya goin'? Joe, don't run off!" Hoss begged, his worried face sagging as his little brother stormed out the door.

"Maybe you should go after him, Hoss. He looks pretty shaken."

"No. I'll give 'em time to cool off." Hoss said as he continued staring at the door, wishing it would open and Joe would come back inside.

"Look, Hoss, why don't Roy and I pay your pa a visit. Separately. I'll make an excuse to ride out there tomorrow and a few days later, Roy can do the same," Paul suggested as Roy nodded his approval. "If we do it that way, it's most likely Ben won't catch on. Once we've both spent a little time with him we can meet up again and see if there's something we can come up with to help."

"Sounds like a good idea ta me, Paul. Hoss? Whatdya think?"

"It's worth a try." The bright blue color returned to Hoss's eyes, and his always genuine smile paid credit to Paul's idea.

"I'll go find Joe 'n' tell 'em. Thanks, Paul. Thanks, Roy."

"Hoss? For now, just be patient with your pa. He's still grieving and doesn't even know it. And I know for a fact he doesn't realize what he's doing to you and Joe."

"Yeah." Hoss heard what Paul had said, but his brain and heart acknowledged Joe's pain and suffering and chose to ignore his own. "Thanks, Paul. See ya tomorrow."

When Hoss found Little Joe brooding at a corner table in The Bucket of Blood Saloon, he was relieved to see nothing stronger than beer in Joe's glass. His approach to the table brought no reaction from his little brother. Helping himself uninvited to a seat, Hoss removed his ten gallon hat and calmly placed it atop the table. The men sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts; Hoss with his eyes aimed at the table, absentmindedly fingering the brim of his hat; Joe entranced by his half-emptied glass of beer, repeatedly tracing the handle of the mug with one finger. Hoss was prepared to do whatever Joe needed, and if sitting at a table in a saloon filled with the smells of stale beer, cheap whiskey and trail dust was what Joe needed, then Hoss would be there by his side.

"I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, I know. If you don't wanna, then we don't need ta talk about it."

"Yes, we do. I was mad . . . and scared . . . when Paul and Roy started talkin' about all of us sayin' out loud that Adam's most likely . . . ."

"Me too," Hoss agreed as he pushed his hat out of reach.

"Yeah, but you didn't act like a little kid that needs his older brother and his pa! A little kid that's always sayin' he's a man but then can't face up to somethin' that his pa's gonna need him for…'n' I really didn't mean it. I'm sorry I said it Hoss!" Joe raised his eyes to his brother's, but his head still hung in shame and frustration.

"I know, Joe."

Joe pushed the beer mug toward the center of the felt covered table and, eyes back down, rubbed his thumb and finger together over and over. Hoss recognized that nervous habit; the habit that had started the day Joe's mother died. In the years since that horrible day, Hoss could remember many instances where that habit seemed to comfort Joe through his worst moments. Another ten minutes of silence passed before Joe looked at his big brother. Swallowing the last sip of their drinks, Joe and Hoss stood, reached for their hats, and left the saloon. They peeled the reins from the hitching rail and mounted, the horses' gentle neighing the only sound as they ambled from town. No words were spoken. At times like this, words were unnecessary between Hoss and Joe. Adam and Ben used their words; words that the two men riding their mounts toward home longed to hear.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The grandfather clock chimed, snapping Ben out of his daydream. He wasn't sure how it had gotten to be ten o'clock since the last thing he remembered was the sound of the old clock chiming nine. After a sigh of resignation, he glanced down at his right hand resting on his stately desk and still holding the small pencil he'd been using an hour earlier. He let the pencil slip from his fingers, heard the faint ping when it made contact with the surface of his desk, then closed the worn, leather-covered ledger he'd been working in that morning. Propping his head in his hands, elbows on his desk, Ben sighed again, this time, a sigh of defeat.

The annoying voice in his head reminded him, as it often did, that it was essential that he find a way to cope without his first born son. He was aware that his loss was also the loss of his two younger sons, and he despondently recognized his failure as a father of late. He reluctantly acknowledged his inability to live up to his own standards of running the ranch, standards that he and Adam had established together. He conceded that even after all this time something in his heart, not buried deep inside, not shielded by any self preservation, but agonizingly open and in plain sight, was telling him that Adam was alive.

The unexpected gait of a horse carrying a rider caught Ben's attention. He sauntered casually onto the porch as Paul dismounted and enthusiastically greeted his long-time friend.

"Ben! Good to see you!" Paul said, extending his hand.

"Hello, Paul. What brings you out to the Ponderosa?" Ben asked, the deceptively strong grip of his handshake masking his weariness.

"I was at the Murphy place this morning, checking on Timothy. He broke his leg, ya know, and it's easier for me to check on him at home than it is to get him to town what with the cast and all. Anyway, I haven't seen you in town in quite a while, so I thought I'd stop by."

"I'm glad you did. Come on in. I'll get us some coffee. Make yourself at home."

Paul took advantage of Ben's time in the kitchen to snoop around the great room. The first unsettling sight was Ben's desk. On it, a half empty brandy decanter and a recently used shot glass were situated amongst unorganized piles of papers, stacks of ledgers and countless handwritten notes. He reminded himself of the numerous times he'd given Ben grief for being so neat and tidy, so organized and prepared. This was not the working-ranch desk of Ben Cartwright, and evidence of brandy before noon confirmed that his friend needed help.

_"_Here we are. You take yours black, as I recall?"

Before turning to face Ben, Paul managed to erase any traces of the consternation he was undoubtedly wearing plainly on his face.

"Yes, I do. Thanks."

Ben and Paul made themselves comfortable next to the grand fireplace in the living room.

"The boys will be sorry they missed you. They left early to work with some new horses."

"That's too bad. I would have liked to have seen them. So, Ben, what have you been up to these past few weeks?" Paul asked as he sipped his coffee.

"Oh, the usual. Trying to keep up with paperwork and contracts, helping with the chores around the ranch. A place like this doesn't run itself, you know."

"I'm sure it doesn't, Ben. Say, why don't you and I have dinner some night soon. We haven't been to the International Hotel in a long time. How about Thursday evening?"

"Oh…I don't know…I have so many things that keep me busy around here," Ben complained.

"That's the perfect reason why a night away from all this work is a good idea! What do ya say?"

"Well, I guess I could spare one evening, as long as nothing major comes up between now and then." Ben poured himself another cup, much to Paul's surprise, as he'd only managed to down half of his. Paul remembered Joe and Hoss mentioning Ben's lack of appetite, and watching Ben down coffee after seeing the early morning brandy glass was a cause for worry.

"Of course, if nothing comes up. So Ben, tell me, how are the boys? I see Little Joe in town quite often, and he usually has that cute little Carly Bowman on his arm. Should I expect wedding bells any time soon?"

The bewildered look on Ben's face, as well as his immediate attempt to hide that look convinced Paul that Ben had no idea his son was steadily courting a young lady. Paul watched as the guilt of an ignorant father washed over Ben, aging the man before his very eyes.

"I didn't . . . I don't know, Paul."

"Well then, how about Hoss? What's he gotten himself into lately?"

"I'm afraid I don't know much about what Hoss has been up to either. I've been so busy with…Well, I guess I should make a point to find out what trouble those two have gotten into. It's always something with them!" Ben said, hoping to cover his lack of information.

"Sure is, Ben. Sure is. I guess I should be celebrating!"

"Celebrating? I don't understand!"

"I haven't had to treat either of them over the past few weeks so they must be staying out of trouble!" Paul laughed.

One simple, feigned chortle was all Ben could muster and Paul worried that it might have been the first laugh Ben had allowed himself in a long, long time.

"Well, I best be heading back to town. Thanks for the coffee and the conversation! Now, I'll see you at the International Hotel on Thursday. Let's say at 5:30?" Paul was determined.

"I'll be there as long as everything around here's running smoothly!"

"Bye now, Ben."

As Ben watched his friend ride across the yard, once again he thought of that day, as he had every time someone had ridden away along the same path as Adam.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_The pine-planked ceiling is twenty four feet high and slopes from its crest to the front wall of the house; a log wall, ten feet tall, held together quite sturdily with heavy mortar the color of a white sand beach. The majestic native stone fireplace anchors the house as it steadily climbs the twenty four feet, stone after stone; each level creating an unyielding layer capable of supporting the next. The substantial hearth extends into the wall as well as out into the room; its depth capable of filling the house with warmth and light. A long, metal poker stands ready to stoke the logs and create flames mounting higher and higher. On the handle of that poker is some a design resembling a tree; obviously custom made by a skilled blacksmith. I have held that poker. If I close my eyes, I see it in my hand. I feel the coldness of the metal before it's used. I feel its weight in my hand, pulling downward on my wrist and my arm. _

As soon as Roy could see the Cartwright house in the distance, his pulse sped up and his mouth went dry. From what Paul Martin had said regarding his visit with Ben, the boys had more than enough reason to be worried. Hesitating, he reined his horse to a stop. What if Ben grew suspicious? It'd only been two days since Paul had visited. Roy stared down at his hands holding on to his saddle horn as he gave himself a thorough talking to, then after a few moments, moved into the yard in front of the Cartwright house.

"And the next time ya feel the need ta join a brawl at the saloon, make sure ya join up on the side with ten men, not the side with three!" Hoss yelled as he backed out of the bunk house and turned for the barn.

"Hey Roy! I didn't hear ya come up."

"Yeah, you were too busy playing mother hen ta those rough necks you call hands! They sure did make a mess of the saloon last night!" Roy said, shaking his head.

"They'll be payin' for the damages, don'tcha worry! Oh, hey Pa! I didn't hear ya come out. Look who's here!"

"Afternoon Ben," Roy smiled, extending his hand to his friend.

"Afternoon Roy. What brings you out here?"

"Well, Ben, I need to bounce a few names off of ya. I'm goin' outta town next week 'n' I need another deputy."

"Roy, who you choose to be a deputy is up to you!"

"Now, I know that, Ben. I just wanted your opinion 's all," Roy insisted.

"All right. Come on in," Ben offered as he swung his arm over Roy's shoulder.

Roy had heard from Paul that Ben's usual, organized ways were faltering and from the look of the desk and living room table, Paul hadn't exaggerated. Throughout their conversation, Roy noted Ben's short attention span and his subtle annoyance at being included in the conversation at all. He understood without a doubt what Hoss and Little Joe had tried to get across: this was not the pa they knew.

After the awkward visit, Roy left the Ponderosa, riding back to Virginia City. He mulled over details of ideas that might help the boys to help their father and though some of the schemes had merit, none would accomplish what everyone wanted more than anything. None would bring Adam home.

_The bowl is quite large, somewhat shallow and appears to be rather old. It has its own place, on something brown…no almost black and with a grain to it, like finely lumbered wood. Fruits and nuts are piled high and it seems as though overnight any that have been eaten are magically replenished. Several hands frequent the bowl, but one stands out. a brawny, powerful yet gentle hand. My hand has taken from the bowl, but the hefty hand does not belong to me._

"Your pa was just as friendly as always," Paul remarked as he handed Hoss a steaming cup of coffee. "You might even say he seemed happy. But I took one look at his desk and I knew you boys were right. Ben's always been organized and downright tidy and that is not what I saw the other day." Leaning down for an empty cup, Paul continued. "Now, granted, we all know that Ada…Adam was always there, uh, before to help with the books and the bills and such." Paul's cheeks blazed crimson and had he been able to, he would have taken back his words and swallowed them whole. But facing what appeared to be the inevitable was paramount in all their minds, so he poured Joe's coffee and continued.

"He didn't seem to be bothered by the state of things. Just said he'd been real busy and such. The only time he seemed even a little flustered was when he admitted he didn't know what had been goin' on with you boys as of late."

A twinge of self-pity washed over Joe at the thought that his own father had withdrawn to the point of indifference to his son's lives. He sipped his coffee without even tasting it. Lost in thought and denial, he didn't notice his burned lips or tongue for several seconds. As difficult as it was to hear someone speak of his father in anything but a flattering light, Joe knew that what Paul was describing was just the tip of his pa's denial. When he scorched his tongue a second time, he silently cursed himself and gently set the cup and saucer on the table to his right.

Paul poured his own coffee, sat next to Roy and studied the faces of Hoss and Joe. "I'm tellin' you, it was comfortable, natural even, like visiting with my old friend. And at the same time, it was peculiar, like meetin' a stranger for the first time."

Hoss stared into his coffee, watching the tiny waves in the dark brown liquid as he absentmindedly teetered the cup from side to side. He'd already made up his mind about what needed to be done, but somehow, Paul's recounting of the scene Hoss had experienced day in and day out for months stuck in his throat and threatened to choke him.

With his lips pressed hard into a straight line, Roy stood, pacing as he offered his thoughts.

"I'm afraid I hafta agree with everythin' Paul's said. Now, I didn't spend as much time with your pa when I dropped by, but what I saw 'n' heard pretty much agrees with Paul's take on things. I've never seen Ben so easily distracted. It was as if he was list'nin' but thinkin' on other things at the same time."

Joe had never seen Roy so uncomfortable, pacing back and forth and speaking as if each word might cause harm to Hoss and himself. While he appreciated that Roy's loyalties to his father made this discussion distressing, it became more and more apparent that something had to be done and that something would most likely be in the form of a confrontation. A shudder ran through him as the thought of the upcoming event painted a picture in his mind. It was wrong to speak with such insolence to a man who has earned your immeasurable respect. Joe's eyes dropped as his eyebrows curled upward.

"Paul and I have already talked on this, and boys, we've agreed it has to be done. Your pa needs a push if he's gonna move forward. Now, that push is gonna hurt 'n' hurt bad. Prob'bly will hurt for quite a spell. But it has to be done." Roy clenched his shaking fingers into fists before turning his back to stare out the window.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_The imposing staircase leads upward to places filled with memories of laughter. The construction is pine, just like the ceiling above the fireplace, and it is designed in the shape of the letter "L". Its smoothly finished handrails seem high. The mid-point of the handrail is adorned with a blanket colored red, black and beige. The blanket warms the room below and comforts as it's passed on the way up the stairs. At the top is a lengthy hallway with many doors on either side. The doors open to places of laughter, of solitude; of immeasurable worry, of sadness. But mostly there is a reassurance of security in the rooms: the security of protection, forgiveness and unconditional, never-ending love. _

Hoss and Joe watched through the window near Ben's desk as Ben rode reluctantly out of the yard for his dinner obligation with Paul, knowing their father would've much rather spent the evening in front of the hearth lost in his thoughts, staring into flames which brought little comfort. They didn't envy Paul and in fact, they'd both felt guilt when he'd offered to be the one to begin the process of helping Ben face reality.

Hands tucked deep into his pockets, Hoss paced the short distance of the study, the hollow thud of his boots against the wooden floor mimicking Joe's pounding chest. The creases above Hoss's clouded blue eyes revealed to Joe the depth of his brother's worry. Although the night was young, Joe parted the curtains again and peered into the yard, bracing himself for his father's explosive wrath when he returned_._

_Oblong in shape, it can easily be held in one hand. The design adorning the creamy white background is tastefully intricate: tawny haired cherubs amid pink and mauve roses. The tiny latch is golden and the lid is rimmed with the same. Though meant to inspire joy, there is an unknown sadness about it. The tinkling sound of its song both soothes and disheartens. Unlike the visions and dreams that fill my head, I am able to touch it, open it, even play it. At times when the tune ends, I am overcome with contentment and serenity. Other times, as the tune begins to slow, my heart abandons all feeling, all purpose. And as the tune ends, my heart aches._

Paul was pleasantly surprised when he caught sight of Buck tied outside the International House. Thinking Ben had already made progress simply by showing up for their dinner appointment filled Paul with a confidence he could only hope would last. As Ben made his way to the table, Paul stood in greeting and, not realizing he'd been holding his breath, exhaled loudly as they were seated. After ordering their meals, Paul managed to keep to topics of relatively little importance and was pleasantly surprised when Ben seemed more animated and jovial than he'd seen him in a long time. The spicy tang of well-seasoned pork wafted through the dining room as their meals arrived. Both men sliced into the tender meat, releasing flavorful juices onto their plates. Moments later, Ben took a long, satisfying drink of water and said something that caused Paul's head to jerk upward suddenly in surprise.

"You know Paul, I'm still bothered by what happened the other day when you asked about Joe and Hoss. I should have realized Joe had a new young lady . . . What kind of father doesn't know when his son's courting someone?" Washing his first few bites down with a sip of his wine, Ben continued. "And then, when you asked about Hoss, well, I recognized that I really haven't been paying attention to either of my sons!"

"Ben you're an awfully busy man with all the responsibilities that come with running the Ponderosa. You can't be expected to keep up with what those two sons of yours are doing!"

As soon as the words left his mouth Paul felt nauseous. Talking about Adam's absence with Roy or Joe and Hoss was difficult enough, but when he heard himself saying the words "two sons" right to Ben's face, he braced himself for what might follow.

"I have three sons, Paul," Ben corrected, a hint of reprimand in his voice, "and I may be a busy man, but my sons deserve to be put before all else. I've been neglecting Hoss and Little Joe in my efforts to try and find Adam."

Paul was caught off guard. Hearing Ben own up to his lack of attention to Hoss and Little Joe was a far cry from the denial he'd expected, and learning that Ben was still trying to locate Adam, even after all avenues had seemed to have been explored, meant Ben thought Adam was alive. After a large gulp of wine to steady his voice and thinking, Paul decided to dive head first into the real reason for their dinner.

"Ben, what exactly do you mean 'your efforts to find Adam'?"

"Exactly that, Paul," Ben stated matter-of-factly. "I've hired another detective. He thinks Adam might be in India."

"Ben, since Adam stopped writing, how many people have you hired to find him?" Paul asked, successful in his endeavor to remain calm and sensible.

"Oh, I don't know…maybe seven or eight," Ben remarked as he sliced another bite from his steak.

Paul deliberately lowered his fork and knife onto his plate, wiped his mouth with his red cloth napkin and steeled himself before speaking.

"Ben, don't you realize? You may never find out what's happened to Adam." Paul hesitated, unsure if he should continue. The sharpness of Ben's gaze sent a tingle down Paul's back and a little voice told him he had to go on. "Sooner or later, Ben, you're going to have to let go."

Paul watched as his friend fought to control a quickly-building rage. Over the years, he'd seen Ben's eyes and the corners of his mouth go through subtle changes as he internally prepared his response to a troublesome discussion, and that evening was no exception. Paul braced himself as Ben's eyes filled with fire.

"What did you say?" Ben demanded as his fork slid from his hand, clanging loudly against the china plate.

Paul's face fell at his friend's tone of voice. He'd been prepared to argue and plead with Ben, but the hurt on Ben's face, mixed with the rage streaming from his eyes was almost more than Paul could bare.

The heated words between them grew in volume and intensity, inviting stares and gasps from the other patrons of the restaurant. The argument was climaxed with Ben throwing his napkin on the table, Paul pounding his fist and finally, Ben rising imposingly to his feet. Leaning on the table, his face as close as possible to Paul's, their discussion culminated in one short sentence.

"Stay the hell out of my business!"

Paul had no choice but to watch as his old friend stalked past the tables of stunned patrons, many of whom were also Ben's friends. With a sigh of resignation, Paul placed cash on the table, stood and walked past those same tables. By the time he'd reached the door, Ben and Buck were rounding the corner at the end of the street. Reaching back to rub his neck, Paul felt a painful knot forming that matched the knot in his stomach. He thought about what had been said during the confrontation as he strolled across the busy street and down the walk to his office. _"I never wanted to hurt you, Ben,"_ Paul thought to himself. _"You've suffered enough hurt in your life."_ As he entered his office, he tossed his hat onto the table, poured a small glass of his finest whiskey and lowered himself heavily into his favorite chair. Wondering if there'd been a better way to handle the conversation, he worried who was going to be more difficult to face: Hoss and Little Joe or his good friend Ben.

After riding for several chilly hours Ben, stabled Buck and dragged his weary body from the barn to the empty house. That night as Ben fought his way in and mostly out of sleep, his dreams were the most intense he'd ever experienced, though he could recall none of the details. Lying awake, he stared at the blurry moonlit shadows of the trees outside his window as they danced across his ceiling. When the breeze stopped and the silhouettes stood frozen, Ben found his rage returning and growing stronger. How dare he! How dare Paul even think to suggest that Adam could possibly…Ben severed the thought as he bolted upright, swung his feet off the bed and slid them into his slippers. Anger born from despair propelled him to the window where he pulled the curtains closed. Ben donned his burgundy robe and made his way down the hall to a closed door that he hadn't opened for years. His heart heavy, Ben leaned against the door and discovered he was incapable of mustering the resolve to turn the knob let alone enter the room. Instead, he simply stood outside the door listening intently for a sound he would not hear . . . The sound of Adam's voice.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hoss and Joe looked dubiously at the breakfast table. Sitting atop the crocheted white tablecloth were three untouched settings of the pink and white china that Marie loved so dearly. It was the rare occasion when both Joe and Hoss managed an earlier rise than their father. They'd both been asleep before Ben arrived home the night before and, already anxious regarding their father's dinner with Paul Martin, their apprehension increased with Ben nowhere in sight. With a simple glance at each other, the brothers shared their fear as to the outcome of the first attempt at helping their pa come to terms with the inevitable. Joe's despondent posture as he sat on the cushioned arm of the settee mirrored Hoss's posture of defeat as he sat on the hearth, his head in his hands. Joe raked a hand through his hair then folded his arms across his chest. The thick silence in the room was disturbed by the sound of Hop Sing serving breakfast.

"Hoss, maybe you should go wake Pa for breakfast," Joe suggested.

"Why don't you go git Pa for breakfast?"

"Nobody get Missa Ben!" Hop Sing yelled. "He not here."

"What do ya mean he's not here?" Hoss asked as he walked toward the table.

"I mean he not here. Hop Sing hear Missa Ben go out very early, when still dark outside. He not come back yet."

"Well, where'd he go?" Joe demanded.

"Hop Sing not know. Only hear Missa Ben leave. You come. Eat now. No wait for father."

Joe shrugged and he and Hoss took their seats at the dining table. Two empty chairs and two missing souls made eating unpleasant, even for Hoss.

"After breakfast, I'm gonna ride to town and talk with Doc Martin and find out what happened last night."

"Good idea, Joe. I'll git ta work on the chores 'round here in case Pa comes back," Hoss added while helping himself to a pile of crisp bacon. "N" Joe? After ya hear what happened last night, talk ta Roy 'n' see what he thinks we should do next. Now that we've started this, we gotta finish it…for Pa."

"Yeah," Joe said as he pushed scrambled eggs around his plate, "for Adam too."

Ben had resigned himself to a nearly sleepless night, so he'd dressed, saddled Buck and rode out in the darkness of early morning. His leisurely pace offered ample time to sort through the conversation from his dinner the night before as well as the confusion from his fitful dreams in the wee hours of that morning. As he approached his destination, a peach colored sunrise cast the dark shadows of thousands of ponderosa pines across Lake Tahoe. The glorious sounds of daybreak filled the air with buzzing, grazing and high-pitched chirping. He dismounted, stretched his legs and shoulders and helped himself to cool water from his canteen. After sharing with Buck, the horse wandered, searching for sweet grass in the shade of a tall pine. Staring at the path he would take, Ben thought of all the times he'd visited this place, the times he'd needed strong guidance and yearned for reassurance. And this was most assuredly one of those times. As he rounded the curve in the path he stopped, as he always did, a split second of crushing grief held fast against his chest. He took the four steps it always took from that spot until he reached out and touched the smooth, cold stone.

"Hello my love. It's going to be a pleasant spring day…the way you always loved spring. You made everyone around you feel like starting anew." Ben caressed the words on the stone with his fingertips. "Little Joe…he's grown since I was here last. He's so much like you, so much a free spirit with a heart that can never be completely filled, always room for more love. Sometimes, Darling, the voice I hear belongs to him yet I would swear the words are coming directly from you! And Hoss…As much as he's like his mother, I see his Mamma in him too. Kind, compassionate, stalwart, and everything in between. Oh Marie, I love them so much. There's still no word from Adam. My first born…Sometimes I feel lost without him, but I never feel he's gone. He's just…not here. I almost went into his room last night. Almost."

Overcome with exhaustion and grief, Ben rested his head gently against the hauntingly beautiful marker, closed his eyes and within minutes, fell into a much needed, deep slumber.

_"__Mon chérie, tu me manques tant . . . I know that you have come here today to speak not only to me, but to your beloved Inger and your beloved Elizabeth . . . So, my Love, I tell you this: Your strength, courage and love will see your sons through what is to come, and in turn, their endurance will see you through . . . .Mon mari, Je t'aime."_

Ben's eyes fluttered behind closed eye lids and he exhaled deeply.

_"__Åh Ben, jag saknar dig min kärlek__ . . . Please remember: You have taught your sons patience, humility and tolerance and for what is to come, you shall all be called upon to make the most of those gifts. Do not give up on anything that you truly believe in your heart. Jag älskar dig alltid."_

Ben's arm slid from his chest to his side and he shifted slightly against the cold stone.

_"__I miss you Benjamin . . . I'm so very pleased that you've followed your dream in spite of life's tragedies. Much was sacrificed along the way, and those sacrifices brought about outstanding character in all of your sons; character that you, my darling, possessed the day we first met. In the days to come you must put to use the qualities you embrace, the qualities that drew each of _us_ to _you_. And you must allow your sons the freedom to accept what _they_ believe to be true, regardless of your beliefs. Benjamin, know with certainty that we love you unconditionally, and that we love your sons…our sons…and will look after them in our paradise as you do in yours. I love you, my darling._

Ben woke with a start, taking a few moments to gain his bearings before realizing he'd fallen asleep at Marie's grave. He jumped to his feet much too quickly and looked for the cherished voices who'd spoken to him. Dazed and confused, he leaned heavily against a pile of enormous rocks until he recognized he'd been dreaming. A dream clearer than any other. A dream so vivid he swore he'd smelled the scent of each of his beloveds. But what they had endeavored to make him understand remained a source of confusion. After several moments, Ben straightened, turned and pressed his hands against the cold stone. A sudden warmth eased its way through him like a long awaited embrace. Smiling inside, Ben made his way to his horse and as he mounted Buck, he once again glanced down the path toward the grave then silently said his goodbyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Riding back to the Ponderosa, trying to convince himself he was secure with their plan, Joe replayed his conversations with Paul Martin and Roy Coffee. Paul had succeeded, though he'd tried otherwise, in angering Ben and as Paul pointed out, for some anger is the first step in grieving. Confident that Hoss would agree, Joe and Paul decided that they, along with Roy and Hoss, would approach Ben together, a dreaded but necessary confrontation.

Just before reaching the yard, Joe stopped to gather himself. Clearly confused, Cochise objected to being halted so close to home. Joe dismounted to comfort him and in reality, the reassurance transferred from Cochise to Joe. "I don't know how, Cooch, but you always make me feel better," Joe whispered as he scratched the neck of his four-legged friend.

Joe found Buck in his stall in the barn. Dreading the assured confrontation he'd receive inside, he took extra care as he stabled Cochise. With no more excuses for delay, Joe squared his shoulders and started across the length of the yard, half expecting to hear his father's voice roaring at Hoss. As he reached for the door, the lack of thunder from inside did nothing to raise his expectations.

Inside the house Ben and Hoss were seated at the table about to have lunch. Hoss managed to shrug his shoulders at Joe. Hanging his hat next to those of his father and brother, Joe released the breath he'd been holding, thankful that the argument with Paul the night before was not spilling over at the Ponderosa. Although Joe didn't have any semblance of an appetite, he took his place at the table. The smell of fresh baked bread caught his attention. Joe helped himself to a thick slice and after tearing it in half, used a piece in one hand and his fork in the other as he chased around chunks of the stew in his bowl. Each time he looked up at his brother, Hoss quickly averted his eyes back to his own food. Several scenarios of what might have happened the night before ran through Joe's mind and he began to wonder if Paul had decided against confronting Ben or if maybe Ben had failed to meet with Paul in the first place. The silence was broken only by Joe's own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Ben picked up on the suspicious eye contact between brothers as they finished their meal.

"Are the two of you going to share or is there some big secret?" Ben smiled as he sipped his coffee.

Hoss's eyes silently pleaded with his little brother. Over the years, Hoss had proven incapable of successfully lying to their father. Joe usually managed to get caught in his lies, but on rare occasions, thanks to his elaborate explanations, their father remained in the dark. They both hoped this was one such rare occasion.

"Not really a secret per se . . . ."

"That's right Pa, it ain't really a secret!" Hoss nodded.

"It's more like a . . . a 'special occasion surprise'."

"Yeah, Pa, a surprise!" Hoss agreed, a little too quickly.

"And you wouldn't wanna go and spoil a surprise, would ya, Pa?"

Ben looked at Hoss, knowing his middle son's face would at least hint at the truth.

"No, I guess I wouldn't want to ruin a surprise," Ben admitted.

Joe's lungs nearly burst as he exhaled. Hoss swallowed hard, relief written on his face. A light rapping on the front door brought a close to the uncomfortable topic of 'surprises'.

"Hey, Pa, it's Anisa!" Hoss announced as he invited the young lady inside. "Come on in! What brings ya out this way?"

"Hi Joe, Mr. Cartwright, Hoss. I hope you don't mind me stopping by unexpected. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your lunch."

"Not at all. You know you're always welcome here, Anisa. Please, won't you come in?" After a quick peck on the cheek, Ben ushered Anisa to the settee. "Please, come in. Have a seat. Joe, go into the kitchen and get us all some lemonade."

"Sure thing, Pa."

"How are your parents, my dear?" Ben asked, the smile on his face filled with sincerity.

"They're fine, Mr. Cartwright. Thank you for asking. We just got back from San Francisco yesterday. I'd never been there before. I have to say, I'm glad to be back home!"

"Aw now, Anisa, you mean ta tell me you didn't enjoy the big city?" Hoss sat next to the girl, his size double that of her petite frame.

"Honest, Hoss? No I did not. Too many people. Too much noise. Even at night. Why, we hardly got any sleep in the hotel what with all the yellin' and laughin'. My papa says maybe now that I've seen San Francisco, I won't be in a hurry to leave Virginia City!"

"Are you thinking of leaving, dear?" Ben's thoughts rushed immediately to the day Adam had announced his adventure.

"No, Mr. Cartwright! But since Linda Albright ran off a while back, well, Papa's convinced that since she was my friend, I'll follow in her footsteps!"

"Well Anisa, we'd be glad ta have ya stay 'round these parts. Ain't that right Little Joe?" Hoss asked as Joe returned from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and four tall glasses.

"I'd like to say 'yes', but since I didn't hear any of the conversation, I think I'll hold my tongue until I find out what I'm agreein' or disagreein' with!" Joe smiled as he set the tray on the sturdy old table. As the lemonade trickled from the pitcher to the glasses, Joe felt himself relax. Whatever had or hadn't happened between Paul and his father would have to wait until their guest was gone. "Here you go. Hop Sing just made it, it's nice and cold." Joe handed the first glass to Anisa.

"Thanks, Joe." Anisa smiled up at her long-time friend and the instant their eyes met, her smile faded. "Joe, I need to talk to you if you're not too busy."

Seeing the seriousness on her face concerned Joe, and all thoughts of his own troubles temporarily vanished. "Come on, let's go out on the porch. Pa, I'll get to those chores in just a bit, all right?"

"Yes Joe, that's fine. I've got some work to do at my desk, but you make sure you poke your head in to say goodbye before you leave, young lady!"

"I will, Mr. Cartwright."

Anisa Tramor and Joe had grown up together as trusted friends. During her early teens, it seemed as though she'd spent as much time on the Ponderosa as she did on her own family's ranch. Hoss and Adam had even wagered that Joe and Anisa would get married someday. But as they matured, it became obvious that the two would remain friends and nothing more. An only child, Anisa adored the Cartwrights and they felt the same about her. She knew that whoever stole her heart would not only have to live up to her expectations, but also those of her father, mother and all of the Cartwrights.

The afternoon sun was blazing, but the porch at the Ponderosa was already in full shade. After a deep breath of fresh air, Anisa took Joe's hand.

"Joe, sit down, please."

"Whoa, this sounds important. What is it?" Joe sat, his hand held tightly in hers.

Anisa placed her half emptied glass on the small table and took a seat in the old wooden porch rocker across from Joe.

"Honey, what is it? Your face is so pale. You look like you've seen a ghost or something!"

Joe took both of Anisa's hands in his, hoping to somehow ease whatever it was making her so tense.

"Joe…something happened on our trip and…well…I wasn't sure if I should tell you or not."

The distressed tone of her soft voice frightened Joe, but it was the look of anguish on her face that sent his mind reeling, searching for the cause to save her from saying it aloud.

"Anisa, did someone hurt you?"

The realization of Joe's suspicions startled her.

"No, Joe! No one . . . no."

"Thank God! Honey, tell me what's wrong!"

"Alright. But please, just listen so I can get this all out."

Joe nodded his head in agreement as he slid his chair closer to Anisa.

"Mamma, Papa and I went to San Francisco and on the way back home we stopped off in Carson City. They were hosting a big horse auction there and Papa wanted a new horse for Mamma. We'd missed the first two horses 'cause Mamma wasn't ready on time. I got kinda bored after the first hour and started walking around the corral, and began, you know, people watching. I heard some men talking about the man who'd won the first horse. A white and black pinto. They said he was very knowledgeable about horses. They seemed real impressed by this man. From what I could gather before the auction he'd asked some really good questions about the pinto and another horse. Anyway, I kept walking and watching and listening and-"

"You mean you were nosing around!" Joe interrupted, as much trying to move the story along as he was trying to lighten the mood.

"Joe! You know I like to hear stories and meet lots of people and…let me finish! I walked all the way back to Mamma and Papa and they said I could go back to the hotel if I wanted. So I did. On the way, I passed the livery stables and I saw a black and white pinto hitched outside. I wanted a closer look and when I moved nearer to the livery, I heard voices and . . . Joe, I know you're gonna think I'm crazy! But one of them sounded exactly like Adam."

In a matter of seconds, Joe's concern for Anisa turned to disbelief. His gentle eyes filled with doubt and at the same time, cautious hope. He'd begun to come to terms with losing Adam and Anisa's tale was deeply unsettling.

"Nisa, I'm sure there are people out there who sound a lot like all of us. Maybe…maybe you were thinking about the pinto and me and Adam. I'm sure that's all it was."

Anisa's heart beat faster than she could ever remember. Joe had called her by the nickname he'd given her years before; a name he rarely used except when he was angry…or very badly hurt. She considered forgetting about the rest of what she'd come to tell, but Joe deserved to know it all. Anisa squeezed his hands tightly as she took a deep breath.

"Joe, there's more. I went over to look into the stables and one man walked out right past me. When he got near the hitching post, he yelled back at the other man, still in the stables. His voice didn't sound anything like Adam's, but when the man inside answered, his did, so I went inside. The man was in a stall, oiling a saddle. It was too dark inside for me to see his face, but he was about as tall as your pa, and had dark hair, nearly touching his shoulders."

"That could have been anyone, Nisa! If Adam was that close to home we would have heard from him!" Joe dropped her hands and bounded from the chair. Pacing, he asked, "Did you go inside? Did you talk to him?"

"No. I was gonna, but-"

"But what?" Joe's raised voice startled Anisa, and he fought to control his distress so Hoss and his father wouldn't hear.

"He started humming, you know, while he was working on the saddle. His voice, Joe…I swear I've heard it before," Anisa said, her eyes filling with tears.

"What was he humming? What was it Nisa?" Joe's angry whisper caught in his throat.

"It was the one Adam used to sing. It was Shenandoah."

Joe's hands fell lifelessly at his sides. Though he was looking at Anisa with piercing eyes, all he saw was darkness. His breathing came in heavy bursts, his mouth agape. When his face flushed from white to red, sweat formed on his forehead.

"Joe? I knew I should've kept it to myself! I'm so sorry! Joe, are you okay? Should I get your pa?"

"Did you see the man…up close, I mean?"

"No. I stood there listening to him humming, then he started softly singing the words. Then I heard my papa calling me and I ran to tell him and Mamma and when we got back to the livery…the man was gone."

Joe slowly walked into the yard. Anisa wanted to hold him, to apologize, to tell him her parents were right when they'd said it couldn't have been Adam. They'd said that Adam was most likely dead and that she shouldn't mention a word to any Cartwright. Joe turned to her, the torture in his eyes sending a chill through her.

"Nisa, go inside and make some excuse to get Hoss out here. No one else! Just Hoss."

"But, Joe-"

"DO IT NOW, NISA!"

Under any other circumstances on any ordinary day, Joe knew he would have received a sharp slap across the face for raising his voice in that manner, but at that moment, instead of anger, Joe was filled with pain. His desperate anguish came across in his quickly-spat, heated command, and in his darkened eyes reflecting an internal storm. He stared out into the yard, his shoulders stiff, his face tense.

Without a word, she crossed behind Joe and went straight to the front door. She was inside the house for only a moment, but to Joe it seemed an endless eternity. His thoughts rushed together in a jumble of possibilities. Could it really have been Adam? Why was he out of touch yet so close to home? Could it all be a torturous mistake? The noisy deluge of theories and outcomes in his thoughts were interrupted when Hoss and Anisa stepped onto the porch.

"All right, Little Joe, what's so dadgummed important that ya had to interrupt my second piece of pie? Joe? Are you all right?" Hoss had never seen a person's face covered with so many emotions at once. It frightened him to see his little brother in such intense turmoil. "What in tarnation is goin' on?" Hoss asked, the question directed to anyone who was willing to answer.

"Anisa saw Adam," Joe blurted out, his voice trembling with excitement.

Hoss's deep blue eyes nearly disappeared when he squinted intensely and cocked his head to the side in disbelief. "She . . . You SAW Adam?"

"That's right." Joe grabbed his big brother by the arms. "He's alive, Hoss!" Joe yelled in a whispered tone. "He's alive!"

Seeing an all-too-familiar look in Joe's sparkling eyes, Hoss immediately thought to protect their father from any false hopes. He circled his big arms around Joe. "Now, calm down, Joe," Hoss said as he led his brother firmly to a chair. "Anisa, maybe you best tell me what this is all about."

Recounting the story for Hoss, nary a word was different from her earlier version to Joe. When she finished, the silence on the open porch was thunderous, marred only by a nicker from the barn. Hoss's face was filled with doubt. He leaned heavily against the porch post and squared his jaw before speaking.

"Anisa, honey, I really don't think it was Adam. If he was that close ta home, we'd know it."

Joe sprang from the chair and channeled all of his frustration and fears into the sharpness of his tone.

"Maybe he wants to surprise us! Maybe he's waiting for Pa's birthday! She's not lyin', Hoss. She saw Adam!" Joe's voice raised nearly an octave, reminding Hoss of his voice when he was a little boy.

"Joe, I never said I saw Adam. I said I heard someone who sounded like him." Anisa reached out and placed her hand on Joe's shoulder, only to have him yank himself away from her touch.

"But he sang that song. Adam sings that song, Hoss. It has to be him!" Joe stopped cold when he heard the front door open and saw his father step outside.

"Are these boys of mine taking good care of you, Anisa?" Ben questioned as he strolled across the porch toward the young girl.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Cartwright. And thank you for the lemonade," she said as she reached for her untouched glass, "It's very good."

"How are those figures comin', Pa? Got ev'rything ta balance out?" Hoss asked, hoping his father wouldn't get a good look at his brother's face.

"Well, Hoss, I'll take that as a polite way of telling me that I need to get back to work and leave you young people alone!"

"Aw, Pa, that ain't what I meant," Hoss said apologetically.

"No, Mr. Cartwright, I love visiting with the boys and you too!" Anisa added.

"Oh, that's all right. I do have more work to finish up. Now remember, you come say goodbye before you head on home."

"Yes, sir. I will." Anisa replied. As Ben went inside and closed the door, Joe let out a loud sigh of relief as Hoss ran his hand through his hair.

"Did your parents see this man?" Hoss asked, wasting no time in getting back to the story.

"No, they didn't. And when I told them, Papa was angry with me. Said I was grasping at something that couldn't be reached. He said he and Mamma had already grieved for Adam and that I should too. But I was so sure! I even snuck out of the hotel that night and looked around for the horse and the man but they were nowhere to be found. The next morning we left Carson City and headed for home."

Hoss walked off the porch and leaned against the hitching post in the yard, holding onto the strong log with both hands. Joe and Anisa followed, waiting to hear Hoss's thoughts and afraid to hear them at the same time.

"Hoss! Say something!" Joe pleaded.

Hoss swallowed so loudly Anisa feared he was about to be ill. "I think we gotta check it out, Joe. We kin talk ta Roy 'n'-"

"We don't hafta talk to Roy! We hafta go to Carson City and track this man and his horse and find out if it's Adam or not!" The decisiveness in Joe's voice reminded Hoss of their pa, and a smile crept across his face.

"How do we both manage ta go away fer a few days without Pa knowin' why?" Hoss asked.

"Then we're going to Carson City?" Joe whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

"Damn right we are!" Hoss replied as he, Joe and Anisa set to scheming.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Several miles from Virginia City, a long-haired, unshaven man lifted his coffee pot from the campfire and poured a cup of the steaming brew. As he leaned back against his saddle and bedroll, the matchstick held between his teeth bobbled to the other side of his mouth as he smiled at the yet unnamed black and white pinto.

"How 'bout Joe? Now where did that come from? Strange name for a horse . . . Joe? Nah, I'll give it some more thought, boy."

"Isn't your Pa gonna wonder why I came with my pa this morning? I was just here last night!" Anisa asked as Hoss poured three cups of coffee, spilling a few drops on the white linen tablecloth.

"Nah." Hoss rapidly blinked his clear blue eyes as he made a silly face at his friend. "He'll just figure ya couldn't go one more minute without seein' your ole pal Hoss!"

"Oh, Hoss, you are so silly!" Anisa giggled.

"Seriously, honey, we lucked out when we heard your pa was comin' over this mornin' ta check out that bull of ours. Your pa 'n' mine'll be out at that corral catchin' up on ev'rything from bulls ta bridles!"

Anisa sipped her coffee as Joe came barreling down the stairs. "Hoss! You were s'possed to wake me! Mornin', Anisa." Joe plopped a quick kiss on her cheek.

"I was jist about to when Anisa 'n' her pa rode in," Hoss explained.

Hop Sing came around the corner from his kitchen and filled the table with plates of crisp bacon, lightly browned toast, scrambled eggs and sweet-smelling fruit. "Hop Sing make good breakfast. Missy Anisa, you eat too!"

"Thank you, Hop Sing! I only had time for juice before I left home. This smells wonderful!"

"Missy Anisa appreciate Hop Sing. Make Hop Sing very happy." The cook bowed and scurried off to his kitchen as the plates of food were reduced to crumbs and scraps.

"Now, let me see if I have this straight. You told your pa that both you and Hoss want to go and check up on Mrs. Thomas and her daughters," Anisa said before taking a mouthful of eggs.

"That's right. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas used to have a little place near Virginia City. They moved…what was it, Hoss? About two years ago? They got a bigger place just outside of Carson City. Mr. Thomas died a while back and since then Pa's been out regularly to check on the missus and her daughters. We said it was time for another visit…you know, to see if she needs anything fixed around the house." Joe explained.

"And that was it? He just said_ okay_?"

"Yes'im. Jist told us ta make sure she has all she needs before we leave. You know our pa. He always feels better when he gets a chance ta help someone. Even said he was real proud of me 'n' Joe for thinkin' of it on our own." Hoss set his fork on the edge of his plate, his appetite stalled momentarily.

Anisa looked at the big man beside her and saw a little boy feeling guilty, not because he'd been caught in a lie, but because he was even considering telling one in the first place. She reached for his hand, gently placing hers atop his. "I know you don't like feeling as if you're pulling one over on your pa. Even though the real reason for this trip is to look for Adam, you'll still be helping the widow and your pa should be proud of you for that!"

"I reckon you're right."

"Of course she is, Hoss. We're not lyin' to Pa. We're gonna help the widow and then come home by way of a little side trip to Carson City." Joe's voice proved he wasn't thrilled with their deception either.

"I reckon you're both right." Once Hoss surrendered himself to their plan, the details were reviewed.

The quiet that followed as the three finished their breakfast added an air of tension to the anxiety they were already feeling. When they'd had their fill and one final cup of coffee, Joe and Hoss decided it was time to start out on what might be the most important adventure the two brothers had ever encountered.

Anisa followed and watched as they readied their mounts in the barn.

"Now remember, Anisa. You're gonna ride inta Virginia City with your pa 'n' make an excuse to go off on your own. Then high-tail it ta the jail 'n' tell Sheriff Coffee everythin' you told us 'n' tell him what we're doin' about it. You think you can do that?"

"Consider it done, Hoss. But the two of you need to promise me two things you'll do when you're in Carson City," Anisa said in what Joe liked to refer to as her 'yes, ma'am' voice.

"Oh, yeah? What?"

"Be careful. And, well . . . If you find the man and it's not Adam, promise me you'll be there for each other like always." Her eyes brimmed with tears and her heart sank at the thought that the mystery man might not be Adam.

"Like always, Anisa. Ain't that right, Joe?"

"That's right, Hoss. Like always. And, honey, whatever happens, thanks for your help."

Joe was thrown off balance by a feeling that blossomed from butterflies in his stomach to a lump in his throat. While there was every probability that they would not find Adam, there was a possibility that they would. He mounted Cochise, tipped his hat to Anisa and rode off down the road with Hoss and Chubb by his side.

Anisa stood frozen in place outside the Cartwright's barn, her heart pounding in her ears and her lips burning with questions. She wasn't sure how long she'd stood in that one spot before she heard the sound of horses approaching from the other side of the yard. She was startled out of her trance when her father and Ben Cartwright rode up to the hitching post, their business obviously concluded for the day.

"I see the boys have gone off," Ben said as he dismounted. "They're visiting Ellie Thomas and her girls, going to make sure she's doing all right."

"That's very kind of them, Ben. Such a shame that she lost Samuel. I'm sure she'll appreciate whatever help your boys can give her."

"Papa, are you ready to head into town?" Anisa asked, already anticipating walking into the sheriff's office for the first time.

"Sure am, honey. Thanks again, Ben. I'll expect delivery on Thursday like you said. Oh, and Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Get some rest. You're lookin' a bit tired these days. And don't forget, you come on over for dinner anytime you want! Gretchen would love to have you!"

"I will James, I will. Goodbye now. Goodbye, Anisa!"

Anisa and James Tramor started off on an enjoyable father and daughter drive into Virginia City. With the Cartwrights on her mind, she steered their conversation and convinced her father to tell her once again how they'd become family friends. James and Gretchen had come to the territory when Anisa was barely three months old and, after a chance meeting at the general store in town, Gretchen and Marie Cartwright had become instant friends. The two ranching families made use of any and every special occasion to spend time together: town dances, Sunday church picnics and every birthday gathering for the children and adults alike. Dinner together was often planned and it was almost always at the Cartwrights'; Ben and Marie didn't think it fair to show up with three hungry, growing boys week after week and besides, Hop Sing took pleasure in preparing wonderful meals for the happy families.

Listening to her father talk of their lasting friendship made Anisa's task seem even more important. When they rounded the bend, Anisa closed her eyes and tried to identify the sounds of the city by careful listening, a game she and Hoss had played many times before. Her concentration was broken when her father pointed out a beautiful black mare tethered to a hitching post in front of the telegraph office.

"Papa, you think all horses are beautiful!"

"They are, honey! Just look at her!" James said, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

"All right, I'll give you this one. She is a beauty, that's for sure."

James secured their buggy in front of the general store and Anisa agreed to meet back there in an hour. She'd told her father she was excited to spend some time looking at the newest fabrics while he was in a boring meeting with his lawyers and, after a peck on her cheek, he strode off down the street. Anisa wasted no time heading in the opposite direction, checking over her shoulder a few times before arriving at the jail. When she got to the door, she abruptly halted her energetic gait; she'd never before been inside of a jail. Her hesitation provided just enough time for her to remind herself why she was doing this and who she was doing this for. Brazenly, she turned the knob on the left side of the big double doors and marched inside as if everyone should find her presence there a normality. When he heard her footsteps, Deputy Clarence stood and watched her with curious eyes. Sheriff Coffee looked over the top of his wire rimmed reading glasses, removing them to get a better look at this unexpected visitor.

"Anisa Tramor? Is there something wrong, dear?" Roy asked as he studied the young lady's face.

She swallowed hard and drew courage from deep within.

"Hello, Sheriff Coffee, sir. I need to talk with you about something very important…and private." Her voice revealed a slight tremble.

"All right, dear. Henry, would you mind goin' over to the restaurant an' getting' me some real coffee?"

"Sure thing Sheriff," Henry said, then tipped his hat to Anisa and headed across the street.

"Please, sit down, Anisa. Now dear, what's this all about?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"You're bein' awful quiet, Anisa," James said, holding the reins in one hand as he offered his daughter another sweet from the small paper sack. "Something happen in town?"

"No, Papa. Guess I'm just a little tired, that's all." Anisa reached into the bag, pulled out a red candy, and popped it into her mouth.

"Well, why don't you lean on me and take yourself a little nap on the way home."

Anisa was anything but tired, still she eagerly welcomed the offer knowing the ride home would then be a silent one. Snuggling her head against her father's sturdy shoulder, she did her best to appear calm and relaxed while recalling the cautious expression on Roy's face as she finished her account of what she'd heard and seen that day in Carson City. He'd insisted on walking her to Paul Martin's office where she repeated the entire encounter. Doctor Martin's face had been one of concern over what a false lead might do to his dear friends. Now, as she sat nestled against her father, her mind fixed itself on Hoss and Joe and the steps they'd planned to find the man with the pinto. She wondered if they'd done the right thing in having her ask Sheriff Coffee not to follow them, hoping two young men asking prying questions would succeed where a badge-wearing officer of the law might fail. As their buggy pulled up to their ranch house, Anisa sat up and stretched, trying to relieve the tension-ache in her shoulder. After a quick thanks to her father for taking her along, she quickly disappeared inside the house and up into her bedroom.

_The ornate carvings are strikingly beautiful although what they adorn seems out of place to some; beauty is at times found in the midst of an often uncivilized, raw wilderness. Oblong in shape, its substantial size enhances the feeling in the home, a feeling of permanence, constancy and strength. Each of its mahogany cabinet doors is embellished with intricate workings in a shape resembling an elaborate heart. Above the cabinets are two drawers embossed with similar workings and atop the piece, on the left side, sits an old oil lamp suitable for a home yet rather plain in comparison. The contents of the cabinets and drawers hold no importance but the top surface, aside from the resting of the lamp, is used as a gathering place for personal items, hats and gun belts. A hat once mine has laid there along with a gun belt, also once mine. At times, those of others lay next to mine, but who they belong to remains unknown._

The crackling campfire was lit, the bedrolls had been placed against the saddles and Joe and Hoss were settling in for a late night supper of beans, jerky and a weak liquid that Joe referred to as coffee. Neither of the young men had the desire to make small talk, each being weighed down with something much heavier on their minds and in their hearts. Though they'd always been taught to view the cup as half full, dwelling on the fact that this cup could be completely empty had filled them both with tension and anxiety.

Hoss finished the last bite of jerky on his plate and washed it down with a sip from his cup. "Joe, this is the _worst_ coffee I've ever tasted!" Hoss's mouth puckered and contorted as he looked inside the cup at the black liquid.

"I made it weak so I can sleep through your snoring tonight!" Joe snapped. "And if you don't like it, _you_ make it in the morning!"

"Well, maybe I _will_!"

Joe saw Hoss angrily shovel a heaping spoonful of beans into his mouth before turning away from his little brother. Joe harrumphed before biting off a piece of his jerky and dropping his plate into the washing bucket. Neither had the stomach to eat much even though the hour was late and they hadn't stopped to eat since lunchtime. Joe cleaned up the rest of his dishes, banging and clanging in an effort to make as much noise as he possibly could. After a quick check on Cochise and a covert assessment of Chubb, he nimbly crawled into his bedroll, propped his head against his saddle and rolled to his left, facing away from his brother's spot.

Hoss chucked his dishes onto the dirt next to the bucket and went directly to tend to his horse. A quick glance over top of Chubb's back assured him that Joe wasn't watching, so he tended Cochise as well. After scrubbing his dishes, he readied his bedroll and faced his back against Joe's.

Though the crickets chirped, the slight, warming breeze rustled the trees and the horses tore at some grass, the silence was thick and unnerving. Except for the obvious differences in their sizes, the two Cartwright brothers were mirror images of each other, eyes wide open, staring straight ahead; sullen faces and tense bodies. Nearly half an hour passed before the silence was shattered.

"Li'l Joe, you awake?"

"Uh huh."

"I'm sorry I yelled atcha 'bout your coffee."

"Yeah, well . . . It was pretty bad," Joe mumbled.

"Joe, it was awful."

Joe lobbed his jacket at Hoss's head and the two men laughed for the first time in days.

"Hey, Hoss?"

"Yeah?"

"Ya know how you sometimes get a feeling about stuff?"

"Mm hm."

"Ya got a feelin' one way or another about this?"

"Not yet. Don't have enough to go on. How 'bout you?"

"Same here. Night, Hoss."

"Night, Joe."

Ellie Thomas carefully removed the lid from a pot of boiling soup on her wood stove. She was an excellent cook and enjoyed the entire process from start to finish. Since her husband passed, she'd missed cooking for the appetite of a hungry man. Hoss and Joe had been with the Thomas's for two days now and Ellie reveled in watching the men as they enjoyed her meals. The Thomas girls, Mary and BethAnn, had been quite shy at first but by the end of day one they were full of questions, comments and advice for the Cartwright brothers. The girls, eleven-year-old identical twins were thoroughly enjoying that Hoss and Joe were unable to tell them apart. They were positive that the girls had fooled them time and time again, but they didn't mind the fun being had at their expense.

The repairs to the barn and front porch were a burden relieved for Ellie. She would have been more than pleasantly satisfied and immensely grateful by Hoss and Joe's surprise visit if they'd stopped there. But outside, a large wood pile appeared next to the kitchen door, the axles on the buckboard were thoroughly greased and perfectly adjusted, several fence posts were replaced and the corral gate strengthened with a new latch.

"Hoss! Joe! Better wash up now, supper's just about ready!" Ellie announced as she stood on her porch, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Yes'im, Miss Ellie. We'll be right in."

Hoss and Joe quickly cleaned and put away the last of the tools they'd used in the past two days. After washing, they sat with Ellie and her girls and enjoyed yet another delicious meal.

"Are you sure there's nothing else we can do for you, Miss Ellie?"

"I'm sure, Joe. Mercy, you and Hoss have done so much already! But then again, you _are_ Ben Cartwright's sons!"

"If you're sure, ma'am, then Joe 'n' I'll be on our way in the mornin'." Hoss reached across the table for a third biscuit and caught Ellie's grin as she lifted the plate toward his hand.

"Oh, Mister Hoss! Do you have to leave?"

"Yeah! We were really likin' havin' you here!"

"I'm afraid we do need to go. Hoss and I have some business in Carson City," Joe felt the butterflies' frenzied dance in his stomach at just the mention of Carson City. "Then we gotta hightail it back to the Ponderosa before we get skinned alive for bein' gone too long!"

After supper, the girls were delighted when Hoss suggested playing checkers; Joe and Mary against Hoss and BethAnn. Ellie marveled at how good the Cartwrights were with her daughters, but she sensed sadness in both of the men and was positive it was from the lingering effects of losing their older brother. She could only imagine how horrible that time must have been for Hoss and Joe, and for Ben.

The Carson City saloon was somewhat smaller than the Bucket of Blood, but it was just as raucous on that Saturday evening. Hoss and Joe had stabled their horses, had a meal at Mason's Restaurant that did not live up to Miss Ellie's fare, and then made their way to the saloon. In some towns, strangers walking into a saloon stirred up a bit of an attraction by the locals, but the Cartwrights didn't seem to cause any interest whatsoever, a good thing when asking questions about a stranger in town.

"Barkeep! How 'bout two beers?" Hoss leaned against the stained, chipped wooden bar before scanning the faces filling the room.

"Comin' up, fellas."

Joe surveyed the room itself, taking exits and pathways into mind. "Say, I hear we missed a mighty fine horse auction a while back."

"Sure did,' the bartender replied as he slid the mugs onto the sticky surface. "Missed it by about two weeks. You fellas get hung up somewhere 'n' miss the whole thing?"

"Nah. We're just in the market for a few ponies 'n' wondered if you have auctions here in town often." As Hoss sipped the warm brew, his upper lip scrunched against his nose and his eyes rolled with disappointment.

"Only 'bout three times a year, I'm afraid. I hear there's one up in Sawmill Flats in a week or so. Maybe you can find what you're lookin' for there."

"Yeah. Maybe. Thanks for the information. Come on, Joe. Let's find us a table."

The only empty table sat in a corner of the saloon, surrounded by three tables hosting very intense-looking poker games. Hoss and Joe took seats that allowed them both a clear view of the swinging doors, the bar and most of the action on the saloon floor. It wasn't long before an attractive young lady dressed in a bright blue saloon dress made her way to their table. Immediately, Joe and Hoss were on their feet.

"Would you boys care to buy me a drink?"

"That depends, ma'am," Joe said, turning on the usual charm.

"Depends on what, handsome?"

"On whether or not you'll sit with us for a spell." Joe indicated the empty chair next to him and smiled his most boyish smile.

"Well, if a fella buys me a drink, sittin' with him and his big, strong friend is the least a lady can do!"

Susie, as she introduced herself, enjoyed talking about anyone and anything. Hoss tipped his chair back against the _floral-papered wall_, folded his hands behind his head and gladly took a back seat to his little brother's skilled tactics.

"Here you go, darlin'. Do you mind if I move my chair a little closer?" Joe asked, moving the chair before she could answer.

"I wouldn't mind at all, cowboy!"

Joe slid his chair even closer, situating himself near enough that his knee was just touching Susie's.

"Well then, Susie, how long have you been in Carson City?"

"I got here two months ago from a little town east of here. Deer Creek. Ever heard of it?" Susie reached for Joe's hand, playfully walking her fingers across his skin.

"No, ma'am, I haven't"

Hoss smiled as Joe altered his voice, making it huskier with just a hint of Cartwright sensuality.

"Most haven't. That's why I left."

"And you came to Carson City. And then I came to Carson City. And here were are, together in Carson City."

Hoss watched as Joe lifted Susie's hand to his mouth and placed a suggestive kiss on the back of her soft skin. "My li'l brother sure can turn on the charm," Hoss thought to himself. "He thinks it's 'cause he's from New Orleans, but I know better. He got it from Pa. I know he did, 'cause Adam got it, too." The mention of Adam's name, even though it was silent to all but himself, faded his smile as he leaned forward to right his chair.

Susie, quite flustered by Joe's debonair ways, couldn't seem to focus her eyes and she giggled as he placed her hand back on the table.

"So, you're big friend here. He's awfully quiet. Does he go everywhere you go?" Susie's hint that she wanted to be alone with Joe was anything but subtle.

"Not everywhere, darlin'!" Joe answered.

"Well now, let's see if we can find him a new friend . . . Hey Lottie! Soon as you're finished, come on over. I got someone I'd like you to meet!"

Hoss perused the crowded saloon trying to see who Susie was talking to, but no one seemed to be looking their way until a woman wearing a tightly fitted burgundy dress turned away from a poker table and walked toward him. She was beautiful. Always the gentlemen, Hoss and Joe stood when she approached their table.

"Lottie, this here's Joe and his friend . . . I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, Big Fella."

"Hoss, ma'am. My name is Hoss."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Hoss. My, what handsome blue eyes you have!" Lottie said as she swept a finger across Hoss's cheek.

Before he knew it, Hoss's face had turned a lovely shade of sunburn red. He shyly thanked her for the compliment and signaled the bartender for another drink.

"Lottie here was born and bred in Carson City," Susie said as she leaned closer to Joe.

"That's right. Someday I'm hopin' to go to San Francisco, and Susie says she's comin' along with me. Ain't that right, Susie?"

"Sure is, Lottie. Sure is." Staring into Joe's eyes, Susie wasn't sure what she'd just agreed with, and didn't much care.

"The boys here are from . . . Where'd ya say you was from?"

"We didn't," Joe replied. "Hey, barkeep! Where's the lady's drink? Everyone in Carson City must be in this saloon tonight. Hoss, did you ever see so many people in a saloon?"

"Can't say that I have, Joe. Say, you gals must know a lot of people in this town. Maybe you know a friend of ours. We was hopin' to pay him a visit. Ya know . . . surprise him," Hoss asked as Lottie continued to touch him as often and in as many places as she could.

"Yeah. He's nearly as tall as Hoss, has black hair . . . prob'ly down to his shoulders by now." Joe reached for Susie's chin, holding it softly as he gazed into her eyes.

"That's right. 'N' he's usually kinda quiet but he'll tell you what for when he wants to."

"Gee, fellas, that could be a couple of different men I know." Lottie smiled up at Hoss. "Anything else about him? Like _his name_?"

Hoss deferred this one to his little brother. They'd talked on the ride to Carson City about the fact that if this man was Adam and he was using his real name, someone would have recognized the name Cartwright by now.

"Well, ya see, this friend of ours is hidin' out from a couple of card sharps that wanna collect the money he owes them, so, knowing our friend, he'd be using a false name to try and steer clear of them. His real name is Danny. Danny Bridger. Like we said, he has long black hair. Oh, and he might be ridin' a black and white pinto."

"Black and white, you say?" Susie asked.

"Yes'im. A black 'n' white pinto."

"Lottie, that sounds like-"

Susie's answer was interrupted by gunfire coming from the opposite corner of the saloon. Hoss and Joe instinctively put themselves between the gunfire and the women at their table. From all appearances, the shot was a warning from an irate player to an accused winner. An elderly miner staggered through the saloon doors on a fated mission to locate the sheriff. Several men attempted to calm the angry man, but when he took to waving his gun around as he spoke to them everyone took a few steps toward the doors. Finally, the target of the accusations shoved his chair back and stood to his full height of six feet four inches. As if his size wasn't menacing enough, when he spoke, his gravelly bass voice boomed throughout the quieted saloon.

"Mister, I don't know who you think you are, but I ain't cheatin'! You're a lousy player 'n' ev'rybody in this town knows it!

The saloon doors swung open, followed by the barrel of a pistol being aimed by Carson City's sheriff.

"Put the gun down, Billy! I'm not gonna tell ya twice. Put it down!"

"Sheriff, I'm glad you're here. This piece a pond scum's been cheatin' all night 'n' I aim to do somethin' about it!"

"Billy, I said put it down! Didn't you get enough o' my jail cell when you was in there last time? Seems to me it was the same problem. You pullin' a gun on someone you thought was cheatin'! You was wrong then, 'n' I'll wager you're wrong now!"

"But, sheriff!"

"Billy, just put it down 'n' go home before your ma starts frettin' over what trouble you're in this time!"

The young man, mumbling under his breath, holstered his gun and defiantly stomped out of the saloon. Now all eyes were locked on the tall man, still standing, still angry. He looked at the sheriff in disbelief as Hoss and Joe both wondered why the sheriff let the young man leave unpunished.

"Mister, you'd best get on outta here, too, just in case Billy comes back."

"Now hold on, sheriff! That boy pulled a gun and started shootin'! And you let him walk outta here free 'n' clear?"

"Look, mister. Billy Johnson's father 'n' two brothers was killed in a bank robbery just a couple a weeks ago. They didn't do the robbin', they was just in the bank. Billy's brothers was only eight 'n' ten. Now, I know it ain't right to let him go, but that boy's got more than most can handle 'n' lockin' him up ain't gonna help none! His ma 'n' I found that out after last time."

Reluctantly, the man backed down, grabbed his money from the table, swallowed down his drink in one gulp and walked out of the saloon. As the sheriff passed by their table, Susie caught his attention.

"Sheriff? The man Billy drew on last time . . . Didn't he have black hair, 'bout down to his shoulders?"

"Yeah, Susie, he did."

"And did he ride a black and white pinto?"

"No. He rode in on a chestnut. Nice lookin' mare. But, he did buy a pinto at the auction. Said he was thinkin' a callin' it 'Shakespeare'!" The sheriff laughed at the thought. "Why?"

Joe gripped the edge of the table and widened his stance to keep from falling off balance. Hoss lowered himself into his chair with such slowness he looked like he was passing through molasses. Joe cleared his throat, cleared it again and inhaled long and full in an effort to speak; and when he did, his voice wavered and cracked with emotion.

"Sheriff? Is that man still in town?"

The sheriff, suspicious as to why Joe wanted to locate this man, put a hand on his gun.

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. Who wants to know?"

Emotions flooded Joe's mind and body; he couldn't say the words. As always, Hoss was right there, ready to hold Joe up and see him through.

"Sheriff, if this man's who we think he is, then he's our brother."

The sheriff was unable to give Hoss and Joe any real information about the mystery man. No one seemed to know his name, only that he was quite the horseman and that he'd aggressively bid on and eventually purchased the black and white pinto at the town auction. From what little they could gather, the man had arrived in town, quietly, two days before the auction and no one had seen him coming from or going into either of the town's two hotels. The town's boarding houses seemed the likely places to start their search but the hour was late, so their next step would have to keep.

"Thank you for the information, sheriff."

"You boys really think this man's your brother?"

"Well, he could be," Hoss answered, his voice filled with hope. "He really could be."

"Boys, I hope you find this man 'n' I hope he is your brother. If you need anything else, I'll be at the jail. Goodnight, Susie. Goodnight, Lottie."

"Maybe we could help. We could ask around, see if anyone knows anything?" Lottie offered.

"We appreciate the offer, but if he's here in town, we don't wanna do anything that might spook him. If he comes in here, you could git word to us at the Bison. That's where we'll be stayin'."

"Sure thing, Hoss. You boys look like you've had a rough couple a days. But, if you're still in town tomorrow night, come by and see us and maybe we can have a little fun," Susie said as she walked her fingers up the front of Joe's shirt.

"I'd like that, Susie," Joe purred just before he kissed her; a long, heated kiss that nearly buckled her knees.

Hoss shyly thanked Lottie then leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Lottie, however, had a more intense token of appreciation in mind. She turned her head at just the right moment and planted her most sensuous kiss on Hoss's lips. Shaken by her forwardness as well as the mighty fine quality of her kiss, Hoss grabbed Joe by the arm and started toward the saloon doors.

"Come on, Joe, we gotta get . . . We got a big day tomorrow."

Joe lounged in a big overstuffed chair with his feet on the ottoman while Hoss paced from the hotel room window to the door and back again. They quickly agreed on a plan of action for the following day: their first stop, the livery stables. Surely someone there would have stabled the pinto for the night and Hoss and Joe hoped that someone might have picked up some information about the horse's owner.

"All right then. It's settled," Hoss said as he reached for the door knob, ready to head to his hotel room for the night. Joe's question, however, stopped him cold.

"Hoss? If it is Adam, why hasn't he come home?" Joe's voice was soft, his sentence, monotone.

"I don't know, Joe. I just don't know." Hoss turned to once again face the door before adding, "But what I do know is, if it's Adam, he has a reason."

"Hoss? If it is Adam, and he hasn't come home, do you think it's 'cause he doesn't want to?"

This time, the quiver in Joe's voice sent a shiver through Hoss. Clenching his jaw and forcing his eyes shut, his momentary hesitation in answering worried Joe.

"We won't know anythin' till we find him. And Joe, you gotta remember, it might not be Adam."

"Yeah. I know . . . Night, Hoss."

"Night, Joe."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

After a quick breakfast at the Bison Hotel's restaurant, Hoss and Joe visited the old, run down livery stables hoping the stable man might remember the black and white pinto. Nine horses were stalled in the dark, dingy barn including the Cartwrights' horses, Cochise and Chubb. Joe heard a familiar blow followed by a reprimanding nicker; Cochise wasn't fond of being left overnight in unfamiliar surroundings. Joe gave his mount a reassuring muzzle rub while Hoss looked around impatiently for someone in charge.

Just past Chubb's stall, Hoss was startled by the sounds of movement but no one in sight. Taking a cautious step forward, he jumped back when a short, skinny man popped up from behind the stall.

"Mornin'! What can I do for you boys?"

Joe managed to hold his laughter at Hoss's little scare, but his big brother made a frown when he caught Joe's grin.

"Do you remember havin' a pinto, a black 'n' white pinto, in here 'bout two weeks ago?" Joe asked.

"Black 'n' white you say? . . . I get a lotta horses in here, you know. Black 'n' white. Oh yeah, I remember. Fella had a bad case o' impatience! Real bad. Good thing he was only 'round for that auction. Someone oughta teach him ta relax a might." The old man sat heavily on a barrel near Chubb.

"Can you tell us what he looked like?" Joe asked as the man propped his feet up on another barrel and leaned against the side of the barn.

"Well now, it was a ways back . . . Black 'n' white pinto, you say? Oh yeah. He had long hair, clean down to his shoulders, 'n' it was black, like a Injun's. But it was all curly 'n' wavy. I ain't never seen no Injun with wavy hair!"

"Mister, did this fella say anything? Like where he was comin' from or where he was goin'?" Hoss listened intently through a silence that tested his resolve.

"Not to me, he didn't. But he took a likin' to Eddie. Maybe he knows somethin'."

"Eddie? That's the boy who was workin' here last night. Where can we find him?" Cochise, reacting to the strained excitement in Joe's voice, danced in the stall.

"Eddie works here once in a while, when I need a break. See, I got rheumatism som'in awful right here in my back and-"

"Where can we find this Eddie?" Hoss interrupted.

"Well now, hold on, I was about to tell ya. See, Eddie lives with his ma right outside o' town. She runs a boarding house. Can't miss the place, big sign out front 'n' all."

"Thanks, mister!"

Hoss and Joe quickly saddled their mounts, the old man watching their every move. When Joe tipped his hat to the old man, he started to raise up from the barrel, thought better of the idea and plopped down again, returning his feet to his relaxing position before pulling his hat over his eyes. Joe and Hoss hadn't gone too far from town when they spotted the sign reading 'Baughman's Boarding House'. After several raps on the weathered wooden door, it opened to reveal a pleasant looking, middle-aged woman dressed in a plain, pale green dress.

"Mornin', ma'am. We were told we might find Eddie here?" Hoss removed his hat and smiled at her with his bright blue eyes.

The boarding house matron eyed her callers from top to bottom, her scrutiny making Joe quite uncomfortable. Once she'd seen in Joe and Hoss whatever it was she needed to see, she called out to her son.

"Eddie! There's some men here to see you!"

The unmistakable thumping of a young man rushing down stairs was the only sign that Eddie had heard his mother's call.

"Who is it, Ma?"

"I don't know. Strangers. They wanna see you."

Eddie stepped onto the boarding house porch without even making eye contact with the Cartwright brothers. When he closed the door behind him, it was evident that he was expecting someone and didn't care to have his mother's input. His reaction when he finally looked at Hoss and Joe sealed their take on the situation.

"Oh. You're not exactly who I thought you was gonna be. What do ya want?" the boy asked with an obvious tone of relief in his voice.

"You remember us? We stabled our horses with you last night."

"Yeah, I remember. So what?"

The young man's impudence hit a nerve with Joe, but one quick glance at Hoss calmed his irritation.

"About two weeks ago, did you see a man with a black and white pinto? He used the livery, we're sure of that. Did you see him?"

Hoss wished he'd taken the lead on this, as Joe's attitude toward the boy made his questions seem rather harsh.

"Two weeks ago, you say? Came into town for the auction, as I recall." Eddie answered Joe, but directed his response to Hoss.

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah. So?"

Joe shifted his footing, a movement Hoss recognized well as a signal of building frustration in his little brother.

"Let me try, Joe. Did he say anythin' like where he was before he came here? Or where he was goin' when he left? Did he tell you his name?"

Whether it was Hoss's intimidating size or the fact that he asked several questions at once, Eddie finally gave them some useful information.

"Said he was 'wanderin'. That's his word. 'Wanderin'. Said he was headed 'wherever the wind pushed' him. Said his name was William. Didn't want nobody callin' him Bill or Billy or Willy. Just William. Never said nothin' 'bout a last name."

Joe and Hoss exchanged disappointed glances. A first name. William. Not much to go on. They thanked Eddie for his trouble, stepped down off the old porch, and dejectedly walked down the weed grown path toward the street.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! Wait just a minute, please!"

The Cartwright brothers turned at the sound of the timid voice, and standing on the porch in the mid-morning sunlight was Mrs. Baughman. They stepped back toward the boarding house, confused and curious about what the woman might want from them.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, really I didn't. But Eddie's been in so much trouble lately, and here you were, two strangers asking to see my boy. A mother's gotta do what she can when there's no father around."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please, won't you come inside. I have some fresh coffee and pastries, if you'd like."

Hoss nervously played with the brim of his hat. "We don't wanna put you to any trouble ma'am. Just what is it that you-"

"Oh, it's no trouble at all! Runnin' a boarding house, I'm used to feedin' lots of folks all day long!"

Once inside, they were presented with a living room furnished with a mishmash of unusual items and furniture. Lots of furniture. Joe and Hoss each sat in an overstuffed leather chair, much like the ones in the great room of the Ponderosa, while Mrs. Baughman busied herself in the kitchen. In short time, she returned carrying a shiny, ornately engraved silver tray covered with blue-flowered coffee cups and warm, sweet pastries.

"There, now. You boys help yourselves. Don't be shy! There's plenty more. I hope you like strawberries."

"Yes'im, we do. Thank you, ma'am," Hoss said as he helped himself to a warm pastry and neatly folded cloth napkin.

"Oh, you're certainly welcome . . . Land sakes, I didn't get your names!"

"I'm Hoss, ma'am and that's my little brother, Joe."

"Well then, Hoss and Joe, please, help yourselves. Now, the reason I asked you to come in is because I heard you askin' about William."

"You met him, ma'am?" Joe asked, moving himself to the edge of his seat.

"Met him? Why, he boarded here for three days. Two before the auction and the day of the auction. Left the following morning."

Stunned, Joe looked at his big brother and for the first time that day, the tiniest hint of a smile crept onto both their faces.

"Why didn't your son tell us he stayed here?" Joe's inquiry was bursting with annoyance. He and Hoss had nearly gone off without knowing any of this information.

"Most likely 'cause you didn't ask. Eddie's peculiar that way."

Joe didn't know whether to be angry or amused. Hoss simply shook his head.

"Ma'am, did this 'William' say where he was goin' when he left?"

"Hoss, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask just why it is that you wanna know."

"Ma'am, we think William might be our brother. He's been out a touch for a very long time 'n' we're tryin' to find him."

Mrs. Baughman tediously studied one brother, then the other, before responding.

"I'm a fair judge a character. You have to be when you run a clean, decent boarding house." She looked them over once again then continued. "I believe you're tellin' me the truth. Only question is, why you two didn't know his name!"

Joe carefully placed his coffee cup onto the blue rimmed saucer and sat even further forward in the green leather chair.

"Ma'am, our brother's name is Adam. We haven't heard from him in a long time and, well, Hoss and I want to find him. The descriptions we've gotten of this William from the sheriff and a few others, well it sounds as if he looks a lot like our brother." Joe felt a lump growing in his throat. He paused, swallowing hard, trying to force it away, and then continued. "We really gotta find him. If he's our brother and he's been hurt and confused, well . . . We just gotta find him," Joe continued despite the emotion cracking his voice, "not just for us, but for our pa. We need to find Adam for our pa."

The sight of Joe's tearing eyes and the struggle it took to get his words from deep inside to his mouth nearly broke Mrs. Baughman's heart. When she looked to Hoss, his face overflowed with the same sadness and hope.

"I see."

Mrs. Baughman wanted nothing more than to jump from her chair and comfort the brothers. She wanted to meet the man who'd raised his sons so well for they were devoted to him like she'd never seen before. She gathered herself and spoke directly to each of the Cartwrights.

"William may or may not be the brother you're looking for, but I must tell you, I can see him in both of you. Kind, thoughtful, the best manners I've seen in a long time, generous . . . And one more thing. It seemed to me that right under the surface, William was very sad, just like the two of you. A lot like the two of you. Lordy, he even liked strawberry pastries. Said strawberry was his 'absolute favorite'."

The half-eaten strawberry pastry fell out of Hoss's big hand and onto the plate he was holding. Joe took a deep breath so loud that Mrs. Baughman was sure it could have been heard out in the back yard.

"What's the matter, boys?"

"Ma'am, our brother Adam's always sayin' strawberry's his 'absolute favorite'."

Mrs. Baughman did her utmost to remember anything and everything William had mentioned while staying in her boarding house, but the only thing that proved valuable was that he'd talked quite a bit about his love of lakes and pine trees; that and the fact that when he left town, William headed east. With those facts in mind, Joe and Hoss thanked Mrs. Baughman, filled their canteens and set out to the east, toward Lake Tahoe and the Ponderosa.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_Why is it? Why is it that ice blue water rippling from bank to bank, caressed by dancing sunrays, gives rise to the most remarkable sapphire blue skies? Maybe the water taunts the sky, challenging the heavens to transform its vast area to a shade of blue the likes of a peacock. Maybe the heavens demand to look down upon their own image. Whatever it is, I am drawn to this place, as somehow it feeds my soul and mercifully, it relaxes my nightmares. _

_Surrounding the mysteries of the lake are the trees. Many trees. Majestic pines covering miles and miles of land; land protected by their outreaching arms; land held together by their entangled canopy. The trees harbor countless numbers of wildlife soaring with grace through the peacock skies, scurrying with ease in the outstretched branches and walking with caution on the fertile land. The pines encircle the lake, marking it like a bulls-eye, meshing the two together as one. I am in awe of the pines, for their majesty shadows my confused spirit, brings focus to my determination and soothes my anxious nature. _

_More and more comes the strong belief that the pages in this journal hold the map to my search. How that is, I don't know since I am not aware of what it is I'm searching for. But this once empty-paged journal now holds memories new and old. Recent memories I continue to embrace and disconnected memories with no face and no name._

Joe and Hoss kept a steady pace throughout the day. Having traveled the pine-covered trails from Carson City to the lake many times should have made the journey seem almost routine. But their destination wasn't the usual homestead or quick stop-over in Virginia City on the way to that homestead, and the apprehension growing within each of them threatened to burst with each rounding of a bend and every break in the tree-line. Traveling silently suited their current moods but provided an excessive amount of 'thinking time'. The 'what ifs' provided much to consider, leaving their minds full of questions and scenarios and their hearts satiated with possibilities of immense joy and infinite sorrow.

William wasn't sure how long he'd laid in his bedroll, his head propped against his saddle, his pinto grazing nearby. The stars in the blackened sky appeared especially brilliant that night as they bounced shafts of light off of the pristine, glowing water. The moon was full, casting a bright radiance over his campsite. A faint noise in the distance and his horse nickered and scratched at the ground. "Easy girl. I heard it too. Just some fish splashing in the water." The animal was quickly comforted by William's calming voice.

Nearly a day's ride from the lake, Hoss and Joe crawled wearily into their bedrolls and stared straight up at the night sky, their heads propped on their saddles, as Cochise and Chubb grazed nearby. They'd reluctantly agreed to set up camp for the night, each one knowing that they needed to make up the distance at a quicker pace; each one knowing they might be heading to the wrong destination; neither one knowing who they would find if they found anyone at all.

"Boy, that moon's awful bright tonight! I can't recall one so intense in a long time," Joe whispered as he tilted his hat down over his face.

Hoss's nod was barely perceptible. As he stared at the dazzling circle in the shimmering, its glow was reflected in his sapphire eyes.

"Shur is pretty. Like a whole bunch o' them stars got t'gether. Like they's hugging each other fer some . Shur is pretty. Night, Joe," Hoss sighed.

"Night, Hoss."

Standing on the porch, reminiscing about a picnic at the lake with Marie and the boys, Ben couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of the coal black sky dotted with sparkling gems, the center of which was the full moon, astounding in its size and illumination. He'd just come from the barn, checking that Buck and Sport were safe for the night. With one last puff on his favorite pipe, Ben recalled something Adam once said: _"No matter where you are, someone you care about is looking up at the same infinite sky; the same luminous stars; the same spectacular moon. And you are not truly apart."_

As Joe and Hoss broke camp, the sweet, almost-fruity smell of the pines saturated the pre-dawn air. They both awakened to frantic yet soothing bird-song, and after a quick breakfast of Mrs. Baughman's day-old biscuits slathered in strawberry jam and washed down with several cups of coffee, the pair were eager to resume their search.

"Hoss? I know we got an early start this morning, and we aren't even sure if we're heading the right way, but what if he _did_ go to Lake Tahoe, but only stayed a little while? We won't have any idea where to look next."

"Yeah, I know, Li'l Joe. Been thinkin' the same thing…Guess we jist gotta ride hard 'n' hope we find something or someone when we git there."

"How long you reckon till we get to the lake?"

"The Murryville turnoff is jist up ahead. I'd say we should git there by supper time."

William couldn't recall having ever attempted fishing but with the lake brimming full of something other than beans for supper, he was more than willing to make an effort. His makeshift fishing pole was easily crafted by hands that seemed quite competent, that held the memories of a technique that his mind did not. For William, this phenomenon repeated itself on a daily basis. Apparently, he was a very skilled horseman, knew more than he felt he'd ever cared to know about cattle, had a propensity for winning at chess and found himself an avid reader of poetry and literature as well as the keeper of a journal. Fascinated with shapes and designs but not prosperous enough to regularly afford paper, he settled for using the occasional stick to draw in the loose dirt around his campfires. All of these pursuits were simply just…there, a part of who he was now and who he had been. These interests haunted him, made him uncomfortable in his own skin and made him wonder what, if anything, he may have left behind and why. Yet they also calmed him, provided him with confirmation of his personality and enlightened him to evaluate daily circumstances from all points of view. Tantamount to all of this was his impression that he'd once been part of something much larger than himself, some radiating, overwhelming, remarkable devotion; something he felt a compulsion to revisit. At times, it was a constant, always whispering to him of disappointment, abandonment and most of all, regret. On occasion, it engulfed him in a warm, palpable embrace. His attempt at fishing made him feel self-sufficient and relaxed, and as he stood along the bank of the lake, his soul was able to unwind as his mind faded into a peaceful void.

Cochise was a faithful animal with an abundance of natural instincts. She'd proven that fact more times than Joe cared to recall. And that afternoon, he would have bet a month's wages that those instincts were at full attention as they rode alongside Hoss and Chubb. There was just something about her gait, as if she was just as anxious to find 'William' as he and Hoss were. The brothers had ridden in telling silence for the last half hour or so, both recognizing the relatively short distance left to go when compared to the past three years of waiting and wondering.

Reaching forward, Joe stroked his mount alongside her silky neck. "Good girl. Keep on goin'. We'll rest soon."

Hearing the sound of his own voice relaxed Joe slightly. He glanced to his right, into the face of his big brother, and saw a man determined beyond reason to reach his goal. Joe had seen him that way a few times before: once when he and Hoss were rounding up strays and received word that Adam had been seriously injured, the time their father had been taken for ransom and once when he fled the house to rescue the woman he loved. Joe knew Hoss was frightened of both what they may or may not find.

The spell cast from the rhythmic click of the horses' hooves filled Hoss's ears and sent his mind adrift. He realized that during the past two years, he had become aware of his little brother's diminishing idolization. After all, Joe was maturing. But riding there alongside him, he sensed Joe's crumbling façade, felt him retreating to the little boy desperate to please and impress his older brother, full of questions he felt sure his big brother could answer; the little boy who frequently challenged and at the same time wholly depended upon the strength, character and love of their family. To Hoss, Joe's struggle to maintain his courage and strength was both obvious and painful.

With two large trout in hand, William weaved his way up the rocky bank on the south side of Lake Tahoe. Losing his footing on a group of drooping rocks, he latched onto the nearest stable boulder and continued upward to his camp. Quite pleased with his catch, William whistled as he gathered twigs and dried weeds, lit his campfire and set off cleaning his prized supper. His pinto reacted to the high pitched melody of his whistle with a nicker and William laughed aloud, wondering if the comment was meant as a compliment or a criticism.

"What's the matter, girl? Don't like my whistling?"

The pinto dug at the ground with her left front hoof in response. William rummaged through his pack, found his small cast iron skillet and set it on the fire. The twigs he'd gathered crackled loudly as they burned, but the sound that sent William reaching for his gun was definitely not from the fire. He moved casually, not wanting to appear threatening. The lack of anxiety from his horse had him nearly convinced he hadn't heard a thing, so he slid his gun back into its holster and knelt back down next to the fire. A quick, visual sweep of the area settled his curiosity and honed his concentration back to the fish sizzling in the skillet.

"Hoss, we gotta get closer! I can't see his face from here! What are we waitin' for?" Joe whispered.

Joe and Hoss crouched together behind a patch of overgrown weeds and bushes. They'd come upon William's camp just in time to hear his whistling.

"We can't just walk up ta 'im 'n' say, 'howdee'!" Hoss remarked as he squinted his eyes in vain, trying to bring the image of the man in the distance into clearer focus.

"Why not? If he's really this 'William' person, then we just say we were ridin' through and saw his campfire. We could even ask for directions or something. And if it's Adam…well then it's Adam!"

"Yeah. But, I been thinkin', Joe. What if it is Adam 'n' fer some reason, he don't know us?" Hoss watched Joe's eyebrows raise to impossible heights as his little brother absorbed the implications. "Dadgummit, Joe, I keep thinkin' 'n' I can't find a reason that the Adam we know would jist stop bein' part o' this family. So, if he is alive…that must mean he ain't the Adam we know!"

Through all the possible scenarios Joe had meticulously outlined in his mind while trying to fall asleep the night before, this was one he hadn't touched upon. After a few silent moments of thought, Joe shook his head in an attempt to create a brand new jumble of options from the hundreds of thoughts in his mind.

"Then what are we gonna do? Just sit here and watch him?"

The strained emotion on Hoss's face reached out and captured Joe, holding them both prisoner in a decision that had to be made and yet cried out to be ignored.

"All right. I say we ride up on his camp, nice 'n' easy-like. We'll go with your ideas. If it ain't him, we jist ask fer directions ta Virginia City and if it is him 'n' he don't…well, if he don't know who we are, then we do the same thing 'n' ride off."

"Ride off?" Joe exclaimed, immediately regretting raising his voice, should it carry all the way to the man's camp. Whispering the remainder of his thoughts, Joe said, "Hoss, if that's my brother down there, I'm not gonna just ride off!"

"Me neither, Joe! We ride off a ways 'n' one of us stays close by ta keep an eye on him while the other rides for Pa! Whatdya think?"

Joe didn't need to think.

"Let's go!"

"Now, hold on a minute li'l brother," Hoss reasoned. "If it is Adam, and he don't know us, can you handle walkin' away? Ya gotta be sure before we go down there."

This time, Joe did need to think. The sound of his own heartbeat saturated his awareness. Along with the rhythmic pulsing came his father's voice telling him that Hoss's plan was sound and the path ahead of them was the only one.

"Yeah, I can do it. I'll do anything to find my brother, Hoss! Our brother!"

"You know that's what I want too! All right then, let's go."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

As soon as William caught sight of the riders approaching his camp, his hand moved to his right side. There were two riders, one rather large man riding tall in his saddle and a smaller man sitting atop a pinto. As they got closer, William felt no threat and continued to crouch over his fire, but as always, he remained ever cautious.

Hoss's mouth went dry. The sun blaring from behind made it impossible at first to see to see the man's face, though Hoss was sure the man's hair was black; long and black with wavy strands that shone in the sunlight and reached all the way to his broad shoulders. Hoss could just barely make out a few days' worth of beard on the man's face and when the man removed his skillet from the fire and stood to his full height, Hoss was sure Adam would be just about as tall.

Joe held his breath, forcing himself to inhale when he could hold it no more. The man's hair was long, something Adam wouldn't allow. There was a pinto tethered nearby. She was a beauty, and Adam did know good horse flesh when he saw it. As he and Hoss rode closer, the man stood. Joe's breath caught as he drew it in rapidly, nearly causing him to choke. In Joe's eyes, the man's stance was the mirror image of Adam's.

"Ho, in the camp!" Hoss yelled.

"Come forward!" William shouted.

For Hoss and Joe, the recognition was instantaneous. It was without a doubt their brother's long, yearned for voice. A quick glance between Joe and Hoss and back to Adam caused Joe's stomach to churn and made Hoss feel dizzy. Together, they moved toward the camp and dismounted, each anticipating a joyous reunion with their older brother.

"What can I do for you fellas?"

Joe's growing, wide-faced grin froze in place and his gait slowed as his shoulders hunched forward.

The corners of Hoss's mouth twitched from the intensity of his forced smile as he strode closer to Adam.

"Uh, howdee! You from around these parts?" Hoss prayed harder than he'd ever prayed that Adam would recognize his voice.

"No, I'm not. I just set up camp here for a few days before movin' on."

Walking closer still, Hoss clenched his teeth until the pain radiated through his jaw and into his neck.

"Mind if we sit a spell? We've been riding all day, heading for Virginia City." Joe said with his friendliest tone of voice.

Hoss was proud of his little brother and thought, "Good Joe. Good. Now he's heard your voice too, 'n' you mentioned Virginia City. That oughta do it!"

"I guess I wouldn't mind the company. You fellas hungry? I've got more than enough to share! Fresh caught trout!"

Joe's heart nearly stopped. No recognition. As he removed his hat, he glanced at Hoss. The disappointment on his face was unbearable to see.

"I've got some hot coffee all ready too, but you'll need to bring your cups," Adam insisted.

Joe turned his head to the ground and forced his eyelids down in an effort to halt his emerging tears. The inevitable was looming. They had to sit at the campfire, actually look at Adam's face and treat him as a stranger.

Hoss reached inside their saddlebags and pulled out two tin cups. As he sauntered closer to Adam, he clenched his teeth so tightly, a sharp pain ran through his jaw and down into his neck.

"Thanks for the invite, mister." Hoss said, looking directly into Joe's eyes.

"You say you're headed for Virginia City? Never been there myself," Adam admitted as he plated the browned trout for his guests and himself.

Hoss and Joe, cups in hand, sat close to the campfire, directly across from Adam, waiting for him to raise his head in their direction.

"Hope you fellas are hungry. Luck was on my side at the lake today!" Adam announced proudly. "By the way, I'm William. Didn't catch your names."

Hoss accepted the plate Adam handed him but the numbness traveling through his body had reached his hands and he felt nothing as he grasped the side of the dish.

"Hoss. My name is Hoss. Hoss Cartwright."

Adam nodded, picked up another plate and grinned at Joe as he held the offering out to him. Realizing that he was staring, Joe lowered his eyes and nodded his thanks.

"Joe. Joe Cartwright," he said slowly, as if speaking to a young child.

"Brothers?" Adam asked.

Hoss and Joe both managed a nod. Joe's hand rocked from side to side, shaking involuntarily, forcing him to grasp his plate with both hands. Hoss's shoulders tensed and he bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to squelch his need to embrace the brother he'd feared was gone forever. For beneath the beard and the long black hair was an unmistakable smile, his dimples still visible through the stubble, his eyes the color of which changed from mostly green to a touch of blue as his head moved in the sunlight. Above the buttons of his black shirt was a thick growth of dark, curly hair and on his left hand, a familiar small scar just above his ring finger knuckle.

Adam. The man was Adam. 'William' was Adam. Adam was alive. And as they watched him enjoying his supper, Hoss and Joe had to face the reality that although they had found Adam, Adam had not found them.

After what Adam perceived as an enjoyable supper with the two quiet strangers, those same strangers set their plan, flawed or not, into motion.

"William…what with you travelin' around 'n' all, ya must need to earn some money from time ta time 'n' we could really use a capable hand on the Ponderosa, if yer int'rested."

"Ranch work?" he asked as he added another fish to the sizzling hot pan.

"Well, yeah. Someone ta help with the horses 'n' cattle. We ain't got no lumber contracts right now, so it'd jist be helping on the ranch. Our pa…Ben Cartwright's his name, he ain't been feelin' like himself 'n' we sure could use another hard worker."

Until then, Joe had remained silent and observant. He studied Adam's face for any sign of recognition as Hoss managed to bring up their pa, as well as the Ponderosa's three main sources of income but Joe saw no glimpse of recognition at all. Every second that Adam remained 'William' added weight against Joe's chest, threatening to rob him of air and crush his heart.

"What da ya say, William? Wanna give ranching a try?" Hoss asked.

Clearly, Adam was considering his options. He was beginning to run short on funds, at least what he considered short. In reality, most drifters could have lived off of what he had for several more weeks, but Adam was a practical man and preferred to have something set aside just in case. Ranching wasn't something he was eager to try, and with Virginia City just miles to the east and Wilder's Bluff off to the south, he chose to forgo the offer from the Cartwrights.

"I appreciate the offer but I plan to stay here and explore a bit around the lake and in a day or two, I'll be heading south."

Defeat shone on Hoss's face. His mind raced, trying to think of a way to change Adam's mind while at the same time, trying to prepare for their next move should Adam not be swayed.

Joe sensed Hoss's resolve beginning to crumble. "But if you come to the Ponderosa, you'd get the chance to work with some mighty fine horse flesh," he added.

"Like I said, I do appreciate the offer, but my answer is thanks, but no thanks." Adam flipped the trout with ease, sending steam and a heavenly aroma rising from the pan.

"But if…" Joe started, desperate to try anything to convince Adam to come back to the house. Behind Adam, Hoss shook his head, silencing Joe.

"You'll have ta excuse my li'l bother. He's always anxious ta have one more person ta share the chores!"

"I understand. Sorry, Joe. Guess you'll be doing those chores with the hands you've already got!" Adam said.

The sound of Adam saying Joe's name aloud sent shivers down Hoss's spine. It didn't go unnoticed by Joe either as his eyes filled with tears that should have come from elation, but were instead, borne from despair.

"Well Joe, we best be on our way ta Virginia City if we wanna get there before dark."

"Right" was all Joe could force himself to say as he and Hoss walked toward Cochise and Chubb.

"Easy, girl. Easy, Cooch." Joe said to his horse.

"What did you call her?" Adam asked.

"I called her Cooch. Her name is Cochise."

Joe's heart nearly stopped as he waited for Adam to recognize his pinto.

"Cochise? Interesting name for a horse. I like it. I still haven't decided what to call mine."

Joe and Hoss couldn't take much more of this; holding the truth at bay while their heart was yo-yo'd up and down was taking its toll on them both.

"Thanks again for the supper. 'N' good luck to ya." Hoss stroked Chubb as he stared at Adam. "Come on, Joe, let's get movin' "

Reluctantly, Joe mounted and took one last look at the man he couldn't call brother.

The quiet as they rode away was deafening. As soon as they were out of earshot, they reviewed their plan and agreed that unfortunately, neither of them had a better idea. They continued to ride side by side along the dusty road to Virginia City until Adam's camp was completely out of sight.

"Are you sure, Hoss?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Dadburnit, Joe, you know how easily you lose yer temper 'n' ya ain't got the patience of a four-year-old on Christmas morning! It's better if I follow him 'n' you head back home."

"Alright. Hoss?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't lose him!"

"I won't, Li'l Buddy. I promise I won't."

Joe and Hoss doubled back, each with their own destination. Joe cut through the brush, racing toward the Ponderosa while Hoss returned to the lake to keep an eye on Adam. Words had always been Adam's strong suit, but that evening Joseph Cartwright was faced with coherently putting together words that would deliver to his father long awaited news, answering hopes, dreams and prayers. But those words had to be followed by the painful truth that his first born son, though alive and well, might still be lost for good.

Adam adjusted his saddle and chuckled. "It's still not a pillow!" he said aloud. But it was all he had, that and his blue bedroll. He checked the still-smoking campfire one last time before crawling into his hard, dusty make-shift bed. He took pleasure in sleeping under the stars but on more than one occasion he'd admitted to himself that he preferred the comfort of a real bed. Gazing up into the black night, the stars reminded him of dancing embers. With his stomach full and the nighttime temperature just right, it wasn't long before he drifted off to sleep.

In the distant scrub, Hoss stood watch. Part of him felt uncomfortable to be spying on his brother, but he knew it was a necessity if his father was to see his eldest son again. His mind drifted to his little brother. Joe would be close to home by now and Hoss in no way envied his brother's welcome inside the big house. He and Joe had been gone longer than their father would have expected and the only thing more challenging than an angry Ben Cartwright was a worried Ben Cartwright. Convincing himself of his brother's maturity to handle this situation, Hoss let himself imagine how Joe would explain the past two days to his father. Hoss had spent his entire life looking up to the strong, sturdy rock that was his father; now he only hoped that his father was strong enough to handle the entire story. As for his part in the plan, although it had been a long day of riding and an exhausting day full of mental stress, Hoss found himself wide awake and ready to keep an eye on his sleeping, older brother.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

On the numerous days, too many to count, when Joe had ridden into Virginia City hoping to find a letter from Adam, he had spent the trip to town daydreaming about riding Cochise at a full gallop into the yard, hollering for his father and Hoss, bursting with the news that Adam had written. Tonight he brought news, but that news came with a price. He pulled up on Cochise as he hesitated just beyond the barn. It was dusk and he was certain his father would be listening for his and Hoss's return. He led his horse to a trot, dismounted and stared at the front door, awaiting his father's outburst of anger, but no one came. He handed Cochise off to one of the hands and approached the house. Steadying himself with a deep breath, Joe turned the old iron handle on the front door and entered the great room. From the kitchen, Joe heard his father's voice.

"Well, it's about time the two of you remembered that we have a ranch to run! I know I told you to take care of whatever Mrs. Baughman needed, but you've been gone…"

Ben's tirade ended abruptly when he rounded the corner of the dining room and saw his youngest son's troubled face.

"Where's Hoss? Joseph, has something happened to Hoss?"

"No, Pa. Hoss is fine, I promise."

"Well then where is he and why do you look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders?"

Joe nervously fingered the brim of his hat as he spun it around and around. Making eye contact with his father was difficult at best, but he knew what had to be done. He owed it to his father - and to Adam.

"Pa . . . I think you'd better sit down."

"You said Hoss was alright!" Ben's voice rang of frustration and fear.

"He is, Pa, I promise, he is. Please, can we sit down?"

"I will not sit down until you tell me what's going on!" Ben roared.

Joe knew at that moment that he had to take control of this situation. And obtaining control over someone like Ben Cartwright was an ominous task in itself. Joe mustered the courage to raise his head and look his father square in the eyes. A deep breath and a hard swallow later, Joe, in his own eyes, disrespected his father.

"Pa! I said you need to sit down!"

"Don't raise your voice to me young man!"

"I'm sorry, Pa, I am, but right now, I have to! Sit down!"

"JOSEPH!"

"Please, Pa."

Aghast by Joe's insolence, Ben reluctantly sat in his comfortably worn leather chair. Joe tossed his hat on the sideboard and removed his holster. His livid father waited impatiently as Joe took a seat on the old wooden table.

"Pa, Hoss and I . . . We heard about a man who was in Carson City a while back. After we were finished at Mrs. Baughman's, we stopped off and, well . . . We asked some questions and…the answers we got, well . . . We caught up to the man-"

"Joseph, what-"

"Please, Pa! I know this isn't making sense and no matter how hard I try, it's all jumbled up in my head. Please, just let me get this all out!" When Ben remained silent, Joe cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his hair and continued. "We caught up to this man and . . . we weren't sure. I mean, not until we actually talked to him . . . Pa . . . it's Adam."

Joe waited anxiously, watching his father's chest rise and fall, his face fade to ashen grey and his weary eyes fill with unanswered, pleading questions.

"What did you say?"

"It's Adam."

An eternal moment later, Ben shook his head as if to clear the way for long sought after answers.

"Pa? Pa, you all right?"

Ben nodded once, his voice locked in an emotional fortress, his eyes beseeching those of his young son whose own eyes brimmed over with tears.

"Pa, Hoss and I . . . We talked to him."

Ben gasped, unaware he'd held his breath much longer than was acceptable.

"Where is he? Is Hoss bringing him home? Are they . . . Are they out in the yard?" Ben raced to the front door, flung it open, and held tightly to the doorframe. "ADAM! ADAM! JOSEPH, WHERE'S YOUR BROTHER?"

_"_Here it comes," Joe thought to himself. "So far the news has been enough of a shock, but it's been good news. Damn you, Hoss. You should be the one doing this."

"Pa, he's not out there!"

"What do you mean he's not out there? Joe, WHERE IS HE?"

"Hoss is following him."

"Following him?"

"Pa, there's more you need to know."

Ben closed the door, his eyes remaining fixed on the road leading to the yard until the sturdy wooden entrance blocked his view. He'd always thought that the day Adam was found, Joe's emotions would have him yelling and celebrating right along with Hoss and himself. Today, however, Joe's demeanor sent a rush of dread through his body. As he lowered himself slowly back in his chair, Ben's gaze met his son's apologetic eyes.

"I'm listening." Outwardly, Ben appeared rational and calm. Internally, he was frenzied and frightened.

Joe carefully recounted everything from Anisa's unbelievable encounter to the time he and Hoss spent at Mrs. Baughman's to the trout supper with 'William'. In a splintered voice, Ben finally spoke.

"You're telling me you and Hoss spoke to him, ate with him and . . . And he didn't recognize either of you?"

"That's right. When we introduced ourselves, said our names, he didn't flinch. We mentioned the Ponderosa and . . . nothing."

Ben stood on unreliable legs and immediately wavered. Joe caught his father's arm and gently settled him back into his chair. He left Ben long enough to pour him a substantial helping of brandy, which his father gratefully accepted with trembling hands. One sizeable swallow later, Ben's questions resumed.

"Did he appear to have been hurt in any way?"

"No, Pa. Nothing we could see. He seemed healthy."

Beyond the fact that Adam was alive, Ben took some measure of comfort in the news that his eldest son was healthy. As the information filtered past his rapidly beating heart and filled him with a warmth and serenity he hadn't known for months, his pallor gradually returned to normal.

"And you say Hoss is following him?" Ben's voice rose in pitch as he tried to comprehend the reasoning behind Hoss trailing Adam and Joe not bringing them both home.

"Yes, sir. It was the only plan we could come up with. I'd come tell you and Hoss would keep watch on Adam so we wouldn't lose him."

"Why didn't you and Hoss just-"

"Drag him home?" Joe blurted. "We thought about it, but Pa, there must be some reason that he doesn't remember. We were afraid to force anything on him. You remember what happened with Hoss that time-"

"Yes, yes, I remember." Ben stood again, picked up a poker and absentmindedly fussed with the fire in the grand stone fireplace. "You did the right thing, Joseph. You did the right thing."

Ben's assurance, although welcomed, did nothing to ease Joe's turmoil.

"Pa, he looked right at me and . . . and it was Adam lookin' right _at me _but he . . ." Joe shook his head in disbelief as he sank down onto the coldness of the stone hearth, his head buried in his hands.

"It's all right, Joseph," Ben whispered, his usually powerful voice catching in his throat at the sight of his youngest son. "We'll find a way."

A familiar, strong, reassuring arm winding itself across his back brought Joe's head upright, his eyes brimming with tears that trickled over his cheeks as he blinked. Though his vision was blurred, the sight of his father's face caught him by surprise. Much of the color that had been missing over the past few months had returned to his father's face. Ben's deep brown eyes pierced Joe's with the promise of a swift resolution, and when he spoke, his father's recently spiritless voice once again rang of authority.

"First thing in the morning, we'll get Paul Martin, ride to Adam's camp and meet up with Hoss! If he's moved on, we can track Chubb. Hoss will leave us a clear trail to follow. Joseph, you and Hoss did the right thing!"

Hoss Cartwright never hid the fact that he liked to eat. What most of Virginia City didn't know was that he also liked to sleep. Sitting in the distance as the bullfrogs croaked their songs to one another and the nighttime insects buzzed and clicked, Hoss Cartwright was wide awake. He gladly gave up a good night's rest to watch his older brother sleep curled warmly inside his bedroll. Hoss's thoughts had left the area hours ago. They traveled alongside his younger brother as he and Cochise made their way back home to the Ponderosa. Imagining every possible detail and scenario of an anxious Joe standing in the fire-warmed great room, announcing to their father that Adam was indeed alive and nearby made his flesh rise with tiny bumps and left his pulse racing. Unrealistically, his many scenarios all had the same ending. The depressed, withdrawn and distant Ben Cartwright would transform into the Ben Cartwright that Hoss remembered, the father who'd realized his tangible dream, the Ponderosa, and his most precious dream, his three sons.

As William slept, the peaceful silence in his mind was disrupted by his dreams. He had them more often than not, each one different from the others and each one disturbing in some way. This evening, William saw himself in a large, well-constructed barn; why the well-constructed part loomed in his head, he didn't know. The barn was empty of livestock, had stalls that were obviously mucked daily and ample amounts of hay placed in each stall. Oiled and polished saddles sat on wooden stands, weathered bridles and leather harnesses hung on the interior walls and neatly folded blankets rested on the stall's divisions. He climbed the sturdy ladder leading to the large, open loft. Almost able to stand upright where the sloped ceiling was at its highest, he instead dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to a darkened corner. With the ceiling just above his head he sat, looked around, and then took a match from his shirt pocket. Although his brain reminded him that striking a match in a hay loft was not a sound idea, he did so anyway. Holding the match near the corner, William smiled as he read aloud the letters carved long ago into the wooden planks of the wall. _"MC, AC, HC, JC." _He held the match to the letters until the flame threatened to burn his fingers. He shook the matchstick to extinguish the flame, licked his thumb and finger and listened for the sizzle as he held the smoking tip. Once again he crawled, this time back toward the ladder. He lowered himself to the ground, took one last look around the barn, walked out the door and continued down a dark, tree-lined path. The rest of the night was dreamless for William and his deepened sleep allowed him to rest more than he had in a long time.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The spectacular sunrise cast a glow over the barn as Ben Cartwright, already on his third steaming cup of strong coffee, stood alone on the porch of the Ponderosa. Except for two straight hours of the most restful sleep he'd had in months, Ben's night had consisted of tossing and turning, wondering and hoping. His mind overflowed with his internal voice asking unanswered questions while at the same time, tranquility settled in behind the uncertainty. Hearing his youngest son's voice, Ben hurried into house, eager to move forward to whatever their day's journey might bring.

"Mornin', Pa. I thought I was up early, but I see you beat me to it!"

Unsure of what to expect from his father the morning after such shattering news, Joe looked into his eyes and saw glimmers of the man he had been before Adam disappeared. The weariness of the past months was still present, but Joe felt sure it would fade with time and resolution. That morning he saw in his father's face unguarded hope and growing strength fighting their way to the surface.

"I'll grab something to eat, Pa, and then we can head for Virginia City."

"All right. I've already had the horses saddled, so as soon as you're ready, we'll go."

In that moment, his father reminded him of a young child wishing that the world around him would simply speed up so he could grab the promised prize. The thought made Joe smile.

"Hey, Hop Sing! Would you put some food in a bag?" Joe yelled toward the kitchen, then turning to his father, he said simply, "I'll eat along the way!"

"Yes, Mister Joe. Mister Ben tell Hop Sing about Mister Adam. Hop Sing very, very happy. Hop Sing get food right away!"

Joe smiled then turned to his father just in time to see his grateful grin.

"Thank you, Joe."

"No need, Pa. I wanna get Adam home, too."

His father's eyes betrayed any attempt to squelch his excitement.

"Pa? You did have something to eat this morning, right?"

Before Ben could respond, Hop Sing appeared with a bag of food. "Yes, Mister Joe. Hop Sing make Mister Ben eat. Need strength today."

Ben smiled down at the cook and clasped him on the shoulder in thanks.

"Well, Pa? Ready?"

Ben inhaled so deeply, Joe feared the buttons on his shirt might pop.

"More than you can imagine, son. More than you can imagine!"

As Joe walked with his father to their mounts, he couldn't help thinking, "Pa, You're wrong. I can imagine. After all, you're getting a son back and Hoss and I are getting our brother back. And Pa, in a way, you're coming home again, too."

The twittering of bird song welcomed the new morning. The air smelled of wildflowers, pines and earth. With each subtle breeze, the aroma of the lake wafted up the steep banks and across the meadow. A rustling in the thick brush produced a squirrel who then sat anxiously debating the safety of scampering to the next tree. Nature took on a different appeal when observed from a bedroll, looking up at the tall wildflowers as the bees hovered above the petals or spotting hidden nests in the boughs of a pine. Adam lingered in his bedroll, soaking up the beauty surrounding him, then stretching his muscles with the day's upcoming ride in mind. He had a weakness for sleeping under the stars although he was sure his back would prefer Mrs. Baughman's boarding house with its soft, comfortable beds. In short time, his campfire was warming his morning coffee, his saddle was secured on his pinto and his bedroll was tucked neatly behind his saddlebags.

"Well Girl, I'm afraid its jerky and coffee for me this morning," he said, chuckling to his pinto. "Wonder what Mrs. Baughman's servin' up?"

Hoss had spotted movement at Adam's camp. He allowed himself a quick gaze around the meadow and lake, taking in the scenery with an appreciative eye before standing to stretch his weary legs. When Adam saddled his horse, Hoss did the same.

"Mornin', Chubb. Looks like we might be movin' out soon boy," Hoss said as he tightened the girth of his saddle. "I sure am hungry this mornin'. Just a bit a jerky left. Guess that'll hafta do."

Virginia City was still waking up when Ben and Joe rode into town. Businessmen were sweeping the night's dust from their entries, stocking their shelves and greeting each other out on their boardwalks. As they made their way toward their destination, several men waved to the pair and Mrs. Rawlings, known for her high-pitched if not incessant voice, greeted them from the doorway of her tailor shop. After the customary tipping of their hats, Ben and Joe continued on to the corner and reined their mounts to a halt.

After climbing the five stairs up to the small, railed porch, Ben stood impatiently on Doctor Paul Martin's stoop, hoping that his knock just seconds ago had been loud enough to be heard.

Joe anchored himself on the steps behind hoping that his father's impatience wouldn't leave him unsteady on his feet. When the door opened, it was obvious that Paul hadn't been ready yet for patients or visitors.

"Paul, I'm sorry to bother you. I know it's early. May we come in?"

"Of course, Ben, come in. Is someone hurt?" Paul asked as he ushered the pair into his office.

"No. I mean, yes. Maybe you'd better sit down and hear this from the beginning."

The serious tone of Ben's voice worried Paul, and one look at Joe's expression solidified his concerns.

"Well, if it's not an emergency, mind if I get some coffee first?" Paul asked as he reached for the door leading to his home.

Moments later, Paul returned to his office carrying a silver tray with three cups and a carafe. As he poured, he looked carefully at his old friend and his young son, both of whom seemed ready to shed their own skin.

"Is it Hoss, Ben?"

"No, Paul, it's Adam."

The doctor glanced back and forth between father and son. A simple nod from Joe made Paul's head spin.

"What? How?" Paul stuttered.

Paul listened as Joe told the story and his disbelief transformed to confusion, leading to an immediate desire to heal. The town doctor had dealt with memory loss twice before: Hoss Cartwright who'd suffered a severe blow to his head and many years earlier, a young lady who'd been attacked by several men. He explained to Ben and Joe that there seemed to be only two known causes for amnesia: a head wound or a traumatic shock of some kind.

"Paul, do you think either of those could happen to a person months, perhaps years before and still be affecting them today?" Ben asked, already knowing the answer.

"Absolutely, Ben. Especially if no one or no thing has triggered the right memory from the past."

Joe sat forward in his chair, placed his coffee cup softly on the table, rested his elbows atop his thighs and steepled his fingers.

"Doc, when Hoss couldn't remember, you said it could be temporary, or it could be permanent," Joe recalled. "If what caused the amnesia was a traum . . . a traum-"

"Traumatic shock."

"Yeah, a traumatic shock. Is that temporary? Or . . . ."

"I'm afraid it can be either, Joe."

Adam idly spent the sun-drenched morning riding his horse, totally captivated by Lake Tahoe. He lazily trotted his pinto until something of curiosity or beauty caught his attention, then he'd dismount and explore.

Hoss was easily able to remain hidden at a distance, though his inquisitive nature had him wondering what had captured Adam's attention each time he stopped. When Adam tethered his horse in the shade and settled against a large, smooth rock to read, Hoss let his mind once again drift to his father and little brother, wondering where they were and what they were doing. When his gurgling stomach snapped his attention back to the situation at hand, he reluctantly pulled out his last piece of jerky and washed it down with what was left of his water.

"I'll eat twigs if I hafta," Hoss mused to himself. "Ain't no way, no how I'm gonna lose Adam now."

With little rain over the past few weeks, the three riders stirred up quite a bit of dust as they left Virginia City. The streets were just beginning to come alive with activity, and their hasty departure caused more than a few heads to turn.

Ben had been sure that his rapid heartbeat the night before could not be surpassed without his collapse, but as they rode toward the lake, he found he'd been mistaken.

Joe felt both dizzy and rock steady at the same time as they drove their mounts hard.

Paul, still somewhat in shock over the whole thing, kept a watchful eye on his longtime friend and the young man he thought of as a son. He could only imagine what this level of anticipation, excitement and fear could do to a person and he wasn't about to let anything happen to the men who rode next to him.

From the position of the blaring sun, Joe estimated the time at one o'clock in the afternoon. It would be another agonizing half hour before they would near the lake, slow their mounts and hopefully pick up the trail left by Hoss and Chubb. He thought of his father's first moment to once again lay eyes on his eldest son and his heart and eyes overflowed with the promise of a happy ending. But Joe also allowed himself thoughts of his father crushed and broken as Adam rode away from his real life and family.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Hoss had been trailing his brother for close to an hour and couldn't make heads or tails of where he was heading. "It's like he don't know where he wants ta go!" Hoss thought. "He's ridin' around in circles! We showed 'im the road ta Virginia City, but he ain't even headin' in that direction."

When Adam stopped, dismounted, and plopped down beneath a full grown pine, Hoss worried that he'd sensed he was being trailed.

"Dadburnit! What if I spooked 'im!" Hoss whispered as he slid from Chubb's back and crouched down in the bushes.

Hoss watched as Adam repeatedly yanked tall weeds from the ground and peeled them apart before tossing one and picking another. "Well, I'll be," Hoss murmured. He remembered hundreds of times when, as children, he'd seen his older brother do the exact same thing. "He told me he did it 'cause it helped 'im think." Hoss gave Chubb a pat. "I wonder what has 'im thinkin' so hard?"

Fifteen minutes later, Hoss watched as Adam chucked one last stripped weed before mounting his horse and riding the short distance to the Virginia City turnoff. He reined his pinto to a halt and leaned slightly forward in his saddle. Hoss watched as Adam sat motionless, tall in the saddle, his long legs straight and steady as he stared directly ahead. Once again, Hoss feared he'd been spotted and stayed behind a dense growth of trees. Being so familiar with the road to town, he'd already anticipated Adam's route, and planned out the best way to remain unseen. When the pinto twisted her neck to the right and started down the road at a comfortable trot, Hoss was caught completely off guard.

"He ain't goin' to Virginia City. He's headin' toward the Ponderosa. He's headin' home!"

Joe, Ben, and Paul dismounted and walked their horses the rest of the way to the spot where Hoss and Joe had found their brother. Joe carefully searched the ground for the trail of Adam's pinto, and the three men tracked the horse, attempting to make sense out of the trail.

"Looks like he rode around quite a bit, maybe just enjoying the lake," Joe said as his father and Paul followed close behind. "Here. He stopped here . . . Looks like he sat a spell.

As they left the meadow with Joe and Cochise in the lead, they reached the edge of the road. Joe's assumptions that they'd be following a trail into Virginia City were quickly altered.

"What the . . . ."

"What is it, Joe?" Ben asked as Joe bent down to examine the ground. "Joe! What is it?"

"There's no question, Pa! There. Those tracks. They go off to the right. And those . . . Those belong to Chubb. Pa, they go to the right, too!"

Ben steadied himself as he leaned forward and grabbed onto his saddle horn. Thoughts in his mind darted back and forth, all ending with the same conclusion.

"You mean he's headed for the Ponderosa?"

"That's exactly what I mean! And Hoss is followin' him!" Joe cried. "Doc, do you think that means he's remembered?"

Paul hesitated before replying to Joe's desperate question. "Joe, I'm afraid I can't say for certain one way or the other."

"Well, what are we waitin' for? Let's go find out!" Ben's voice shook as he looked from his friend to his son.

"Wait just a minute, Ben. Remember, we have to let Adam recover on his own. We can't just go riding up to him and welcome him home. You need to take it slow and let things happen."

"But, Paul, he's so close . . . After all this time, I-"

"I know, Ben. But we can't force anything. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Ben answered reluctantly, though he could barely contain the smile spreading from his heart and forcing the corners of his mouth into a grin.

Hoss held an internal debate as he trailed Adam closer and closer to the Ponderosa. He knew the hands would be away from the bunkhouse for a week and Hop Sing would be in town picking up supplies that afternoon. No one would be there to rush up to Adam and welcome him home to the family he didn't remember. He had no idea exactly where Joe and his father would be, although he felt quite certain they would be with Paul Martin heading to the lake and then picking up the trail back to the house. Hoss wondered how he could explain his sudden appearance riding in behind Adam without Adam knowing he'd been following him. Luckily, the solution came to him just before their parallel paths reached the house.

Adam rode into the yard and tethered his pinto to the hitching post. He brushed himself off, the fine trail dust floating into the air, walked up the path and knocked on the large, beautifully carved wooden door. When no one answered, he knocked again. When there was still no answer, he wandered to the barn where he called out to anyone who might be around.

"Anyone here? Hello!" Adam yelled.

Hoss chose this perfect moment to ride into the yard from the opposite side of the house.

"Anyone here?" Adam repeated.

"Can I help you?" Hoss said as he rode up behind Adam.

When Adam turned around, Hoss feigned surprise in his most convincing voice. "Oh, it's you! Hey, I see ya found yer way to the Ponderosa after all!" He dismounted and tethered Chubb.

Adam extended his hand. Hoss politely shook it as chills ran from his head to his toes.

_"_Adam, it's me!" Hoss thought. But there was no recognition, only the remnants of hopes once again crushed.

Adam simply smiled. "Well, I did some thinking. I could use the money if the offer of a job still stands."

Hoss grinned. He felt his cheeks warming from the rise in his heartbeat. "'Course it does!"

"Now, I can't promise how long I'll stay. But I will promise to give you notice before I go," Adam said sternly, waiting for Hoss's reaction to his conditions.

"That'll be just fine Ad-William. You can store your gear in the bunk house, right over there. My pa and Joe outta be back real soon. Why don'tcha look around the place a bit? Make yourself at home."_ Please, please see somethin' that makes ya remember._

"All right. And, Mr. Cartwright?"

"Please, it's Hoss."

"All right, Hoss, thanks for the job."

Hoss watched as his older brother carried his belongings into the bunk house. Being called 'Mr. Cartwright' was a stab in the heart to Hoss, and he couldn't imagine what it was about to do to his father.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hoss sat on the porch pretending to read a random book he'd snatched from his father's bookshelves. His watchful eyes remained steadfastly focused on the road to the right of the barn, the road on which his father and little brother would soon appear. Had he glanced at the open book, he would have noticed he was holding it upside down, but the book held no importance in the life-altering event about to take place in the front yard.

At the sound of horses approaching, Hoss stood, slamming the book closed and tossing it matter-of-factly onto a small porch table. The book landed with a thud that startled him, as if he wasn't even aware he'd had a book in his hands let alone had thrown it onto a table. Three riders rounded the corner of the barn, each one sitting straight and alert in the saddle.

"Afternoon, Pa, Joe!" Hoss shouted. "Hey Doc, good ta see ya!"

Trying to look inconspicuously around the yard and failing badly, Joe's eyes targeted Hoss's with a silent question. Hoss tilted his head just enough to indicate the bunkhouse as disappointing realization washed over Joe's face.

As they tied their horses to the post, Hoss approached, his body language calm yet revealing.

"Say, Pa, you were sayin' we needed some help around here, what with the hands out on the range 'n' all. I hired a new man this afternoon. Name's William. He's set up in the bunkhouse . . . 'n' that there's his pinto. Pretty thing, ain't she?" Hoss's face told more of the story than did his words, and he was grateful that his father, Joe, and Paul got the jist of his ramblings.

"She sure is," Ben said as he looked from Cochise to Adam's pinto and finally, to Joe. "When can I meet this new hand?"

"Whenever you're ready, Pa."

Paul Martin looked at his old friend as he rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Joe and Hoss were close enough to hear Paul's whispered warning.

"Don't forget what I said. It's best if he remembers on his own terms and in his own time. Ben, no matter what, you can't let on. You must hold yourself together around Adam."

"I'll try . . . I will," Ben promised.

"Joe, why don't you get William from the bunkhouse 'n' invite 'im in for coffee? That way, we can all get to know 'im."

Joe nodded, looked one last time into his father's apprehensive eyes, and strode unsteadily toward the bunkhouse door.

Paul returned from the kitchen carrying a tray of tea and cups to see Ben pacing frantically in front of the massive fireplace in the great room.

"Ben! Sit down before you fall down!"

Hoss wrenched his gaze away from the front door and watched his father closely. Although Ben was harried and fearful of what might come, he looked stronger than Hoss could remember him looking in a long time.

"Now mind you," Paul said as he handed Ben a cup of tea, "I can't say for sure or make any promises, but I'd wager having Adam here at the Ponderosa raises the chances that he'll remember. If he'd gone off to Virginia City, someone would have recognized him, and that could've set him back even further. And if he'd gone off somewhere else, who knows."

"Doc's right, Pa. He's here, 'n' somethin's bound to jog his mem'ry."

The click of the old iron latch on the front door brought what seemed like a slow-motion end to their wait, capturing the three men's attention.

As Joe walked in and routinely unbuckled his gun belt, set it on the sideboard and hung his hat on the wall rack, a flash of panic pierced Ben's heart. "He wanted to wash up before coming into the house. He'll be here in a few minutes," Joe announced, knowing that the delay, however brief, was looming over them all.

The atmosphere in the great room was filled with tension. Ben continued to pace, Hoss sat uncomfortably in the worn blue chair, Joe leaned with his hands grasping the back of the settee, and Paul kept a watchful eye on the three men he'd come to cherish as part of his family. A polite knock at the door brought a smile to Joe's face. He'd convinced himself that one look at their father would be all it took to bring Adam back.

"William! Come on in!" Joe said as he stepped to the side, giving everyone an open view.

"Thank you," Adam replied, the familiar voice thrashing against Ben's heart, throwing his equilibrium completely off balance.

In a heartbeat, Hoss was at his father's side. His pa's first glimpse of his eldest son had taken his breath away. Hoss was painfully aware that Adam's beard and shoulder length hair did nothing to hide his familiar face, and he steadied his father with a strong, loving hand atop his shoulder.

"William, I'd like you to meet Paul Martin. He's the town doctor and a long time friend," Joe offered.

"Hello," Adam said as he shook Paul's hand, his voice sending a ripple of emotion through Paul.

"You know my brother, Hoss . . . and this is . . . our pa, Ben Cartwright," Joe said, his voice betraying his outward calm.

All eyes fell on Adam as he stepped across the room, right hand extended.

"Good to meet you, sir. I want to thank you, as well as your sons, for the job."

Ben was suddenly trapped in time, unable to move, unable to speak. Adam continued to offer his hand, but Ben found it impossible to do anything but look into the hazel eyes he'd looked into since the day he'd first held Adam in his arms. As Ben's eyes filled with tears, he reached for Adam's hand, praying the physical contact would somehow get through to his son. Ben's prayers went, yet again, unanswered.

"Would you like some tea, ah, William?" Paul asked, breaking the silence that had permeated the room.

"Yes, I would. Thank you," Adam answered, taking the cup from Paul.

Ben turned away, his eyes threatening to spill the proof of his suffering heart for all to see. He thought of his dear Elizabeth, the mother Adam had never known, and his fortitude quickly clawed its way to the surface. When he turned back, his jaw was set, his shoulders squared, his eyes shining bright with determination. "Please, let's all have a seat," Ben seated himself opposite Adam. After a sip of tea and a deep breath intended to relax, Ben once again broke the uneasy silence.

"So, William, we're glad to have you here on the Ponderosa. I'm sure Joe and Hoss have discussed your wages."

"Yes, sir, they have. And they are quite generous compared to some of the other places I've worked. I assure you, you'll get your money's worth. I believe in working hard for what I earn."

A beaming smile accentuated Ben's warm features as he looked deeply into the face of his eldest, then turned his gaze toward Hoss and Joe, who smiled first at each other, and then at Adam. His sons . . . Ben's heart nearly burst with pride, knowing he'd taught them well.

Adam tucked his long hair behind his ear.

"I'm sure you'll work out just fine, son." Ben shivered. "Now, won't you tell us a little about yourself?"

Adam gave the Cartwrights very little background on himself, and what he did describe was done so reluctantly.

Following Paul's instructions, no one pressed the 'new hand' for more details or questioned things they knew were inaccurate. For Ben, Hoss, and Joe, just hearing Adam's glorious baritone voice and seeing the dimpled face of the man calling himself William was comfort enough to forgo any prosecution.

The sound of a buckboard pulling into the yard alerted Hoss to Hop Sing's return from town. He politely made an excuse for Joe and himself to help the cook unload the supplies, never considering that Adam would offer his help. Luckily, Ben was able to counter the near mistake by offering to show Adam some of the Cartwright gun collection, several of which were his, Adam's, favorites.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Hop Sing welcomed the familiar sight of Hoss and Joe rushing toward the buckboard, ready as always to help unload supplies.

"Hop Sing, come in the barn. We gotta talk to you," Hoss said as he and Joe each grabbed an arm, leading the confused cook across the yard.

"Why you drag Hop Sing to barn? Hop Sing have many supplies to unload! You help now!"

Grinning, sparkling eyes looked back at the Chinaman.

"Hop Sing, you ain't gonna believe it. Adam's come back home," Hoss announced loudly.

"Sh!" Joe reprimanded. "He might hear you!"

Hop Sing looked from Number Two Son to Number Three Son and wondered if they'd been sampling his cooking sherry while he was in town. "You say Mister Adam inside?"

"That's right!" Joe rubbed his hands together in excitement.

"Mister Adam inside, but he can no hear Mister Hoss tell Hop Sing good news?"

"That's right, too," Joe said.

"Hop Sing no understand. You make Hop Sing understand!"

As Hoss recited an abridged version of the events of the past few days, Hop Sing leaned back against the loft ladder to steady his spinning head and trembling body. When Hoss finally got to the happenings earlier that day, Hop Sing felt his face rise upward as his eyes, heavy with moisture, twinkled and shone.

"Mister Adam really in house?"

"That's right, Hop Sing." Joe nodded. "He's really in the house."

Hop Sing slowly walked across the barn, stopping at Sport's stall. Sitting on a stand just outside of the enclosure was Adam's saddle, idle yet shining and soft from the care it had received in Adam's absence. He ran his fingertips across the seat, clutched the saddle horn, and closed his eyes in silent prayer as a grin spread on his face.

"Hop Sing understand. Mister Adam not know. Must call Mister Adam 'Mister William'. Hop Sing understand."

A quick nod from Hoss and Joe sealed the information.

"Good. Now let's get them supplies unloaded so we can get back in there with Pa."

"Mister Hoss, Li'l Joe, Hop Sing very happy Mister 'William' come home. Maybe now, Ponderosa be like Ponderosa again."

"Yeah, we know Hop Sing. This has been really rough on Pa."

"Not rough only on Mister Ben. Hop Sing know. Rough on brothers, too."

"The supplies are all unloaded, Pa. Hop Sing says supper'll be ready in an hour," Hoss said as he and Joe came in from the kitchen and approached the expansive gun cabinet.

"Paul, you can stay for supper, can't you?" Ben asked his friend.

"I'm afraid not, Ben. I need to be getting back to town. In fact, I should be going now. William, I hope you enjoy working here on the Ponderosa."

"I'm sure I will. Nice to meet you, Doctor," Adam said, anxious to divert his full attention, once again, to the exquisite rifle in his hands.

"I'll walk you out, Doc."

"Thanks, Joe. See you later Hoss, Ben."

Adam, intent on continuing the tour of the Cartwrights' collection, was unaware of the scrutiny being leveled upon him.

"William, would you care to join us for supper? Here in the house?" Ben asked.

"No, thank you, Mr. Cartwright. I'll take mine in the bunkhouse."

Ben's disappointed face was all but lost to Adam.

As he reverently placed the rifle back in its slot, Adam turned to see Joe coming back inside.

"Hey Pa, Doc says he'll take you up on that offer for supper another time, real soon," Joe reported.

"I should be heading out now, too," Adam said, stepping away from the rifle rack. Finding himself looking directly at the beautifully crafted staircase, he froze, stumbled slightly backwards and caught himself against the blue high-backed chair.

Oblivious to Hoss stepping forward, ready to steady him, Adam shook his head, hoping to empty some of the cobwebs clouding his thoughts.

Endless seconds turned into an agonizing minute as Adam stared at the steps leading to unknown rooms filled with memories and treasures from his past. Hoss, held back by his father's strong, familiar grasp, stood frozen behind Adam. Finally, Ben found his voice, and using considerable restraint, he managed to speak to his son.

"William? Is there anything wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, no, Mr. Cartwright. I was just admiring this staircase. The symmetry is quite pleasing. I . . . I believe I may have seen a similar design somewhere . . . But I can't recall where." Adam stepped forward, no longer threatened by the seemingly familiar sight. Without knowing why, he reached his hand out and held firmly the smooth pine railing that called out to him.

"That staircase is one of my favorite parts of this house. My sons and I built this place a little at a time, as the means became available. We tried very hard to make it seem as if it were built all at once in its entirety."

"Well, in my opinion, you, Joe, and Hoss did a remarkable job. I really should be heading to the bunk house. I plan on doing an honest days' work tomorrow!"

"Don't you worry none, we'll see to it! Ain't that right, Joe?" Hoss asked, sounding a bit too excited about the upcoming work day.

"That's right, Hoss."

Adam smiled at the eager brothers, wondering what caused their enthusiasm.

"Breakfast is at six, William. You're welcome to come in and dine with us, if you like. The boys can fill you in on the chores for the day while you eat."

"Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. I may do just that."

"Hop Sing will have supper ready soon. I'll send one of the boys out with your tray, unless you've changed your mind about dining in here with us?"

Adam noticed the pleading look in Ben's eyes but pushed it aside for the privacy he wanted that evening.

"I'll say good night now, and I'll see you all in the morning. And Mr. Cartwright, again, thank you for the job."

"You're quite welcome. Good night, s . . . See you in the morning."

"Pa! He recognized the staircase! I know he did!"

Joe watched as Ben, shoulders slumped, walked from the front door to his favorite chair. He looked thoroughly exhausted, mentally and physically. Before he could speak, he heard Hoss sigh loudly. With one foot propped on the hearth, Hoss leaned his weight against the side of the stone fireplace as he stared into the dancing flames.

"Why is everyone so down?" Joe looked from his brother to his father. "Pa, Adam's here, on the Ponderosa! Hoss, you saw him! He remembered the staircase. That's a start, right?"

Hoss didn't answer, nor did he draw himself from the hypnotizing flames.

"Come on! Adam's home! He's not . . . Look, I know none of us wanted to say this before, but you have to admit, we all thought he might be . . . Well, we were afraid he was . . . We thought he might be dead! Right? Well, he's not! He's alive! Pa? Hoss?"

Ben steepled his fingers beneath his chin as Joe paced.

"Joe's right, Pa. He's alive. He's here. He remembered somethin' tonight, I'm sure of it. And if he remembered one thing, he can remember all of it. We just have to be patient."

Sweat poured down his brows. His trembling hands felt cold and damp. His pulse, beating loudly in his ears, raced. Several terrifying seconds flew by as Adam struggled to focus his eyes in the dark, strange surroundings.

"Where am I?" he mumbled aloud. "Oh . . . yeah."

He rubbed his temples in an effort to slow his impending headache. He quickly pulled his hands away, staring at his moist fingertips, aware he'd been perspiring as a result of his dream. A dream he could not recall. A dream that left him perplexed and shaken. His intuition called to him, warning him, bringing his instinct for self preservation racing to the surface. With his eyes now adjusted to the moonlit darkness, he carefully studied his saddlebags lying on the empty bed across the room. The gut feeling invading his thoughts and saturating his mind compelled him to take his belongings and flee, but his legs refused to move, ignoring the impulses guiding their movement. Something about his saddlebags held him still, paralyzed with the painful feeling escalating in his heart. The ache grew and with it, his breathing became more rapid. Adam clutched at his chest as the ache intensified.

Tears formed in his eyes, stinging, mocking the pain in his heart. An attempt to swing his legs off the bed succeeded only in causing him to fall backward. Lying on the bed in the bunkhouse, frightened and alone, Adam closed his eyes in an effort to channel all his energy into a cry for help. He opened his mouth, eager to call out to anyone who might hear, but no sound came from him save the sound of his labored breathing. As the intensity of the pain reached an unbearable level, he once again closed his eyes, surrendering to his betraying body. Suddenly, he bolted straight up in bed as sweat poured down his brows, his cold hands shook and his pulse raced.

It had all been a part of his dream, his nightmare. He looked down at his hands, the moonlight pouring through the window revealing his whitened knuckles as he clutched his shirt. He no longer felt the stabbing pressure in his chest and while his breathing remained rapid, the need to gasp for each breath had faded. When he released the hold on his shirt, his weighted hands fell to his lap. As his eyes accepted the dark of night, his saddlebags came into focus. This time, however, they did not invoke a need to run but instead, they silently called to him with the promise of comfort.

Adam stood slowly, hesitant in his ability to remain steady and then walked to the bed across the room. His fingertips felt the cool, smooth leather of the saddlebags. Slipping the belt through the buckle and raising the flap, he realized he didn't know what he was searching for or what he might find. His heart skipped a beat, its heaviness forcing him to sit down next to the bags.

_This is crazy! These are MY saddlebags. I know what's inside. This . . . This nightmare was just that. A dark dream. Not a reality. What is wrong with me?_

He stood quickly, his movement against the mattress causing the bags to slide off the edge of the bed. When he bent to pick them up, his journal had fallen from the bags onto the bunkhouse floor. Stooping once again, he lifted the journal and tossed it onto the bed, its pages opening to an entry from several weeks before. He didn't notice the open journal or the exposed entry. He'd already turned and was climbing back into bed, hoping to sleep dreamlessly for the remainder of the night.

Adam was in luck. He was able to fall asleep within minutes, resting well for several hours. On the empty bunkhouse bed, the journal lay next to the saddlebags. The entry on the open page began: The imposing staircase leads upward to places filled with memories of laughter.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Mornin', Pa," Hoss said, quietly closing the front door.

"Hoss? I thought you were still upstairs. What were you doing outside at this hour?"

"Um . . . Well . . . You see, Pa . . . ."

"He slept in the barn," Joe tattled as he padded down the stairs, rubbing his eyes before running a hand through his tousled hair.

"You what?"

"I slept in the barn, Pa."

"Why on earth would you . . . Oh."

"That's right. He slept in the barn so Adam, I mean William couldn't run off without someone knowing he was leaving. It's my turn tonight," Joe said as matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Well, I guess I can't fault you for trying to keep your brother here on the Ponderosa." Ben rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his broad shoulders as he made his way to the breakfast table.

"Back botherin' you, Pa?" Joe asked.

"Yeah."

"Must be all the tension from yesterday caught up with you last night," Hoss added, concerned for his father's aches and pains.

"That," Ben's face flushed, "and the fact that I slept in a chair next to an open window."

"You wha . . . Oh. So you could hear if anyone tried to leave."

"Yeah. Great minds." Ben and his two younger boys shared a much needed laugh that was abruptly cut short by a knock at the door.

When he opened the door, Ben was pleased and relieved to find Adam ready to join them for breakfast.

"Good morning, Mr. Cartwright. I apologize for being late."

"Nonsense. Joseph just came down and Hop Sing's just about to bring in the food."

"Hop Sing," Hoss said as he crossed the room, "whatever you got on them plates sure smells good!"

"Hop Sing make flapjacks. With fresh strawberries."

Ben saw him wink at Hoss and Joe as he casually mentioned the strawberries and when Hop Sing walked by, Joe patted his shoulder in thanks for remembering one of Adam's favorites.

"William, I hope you like flapjacks and strawberries," Ben added as the entire Cartwright family took their seats at the table for the first time in years.

"As a matter of fact, I do, Mr. Cartwright. And thank you for inviting me in for breakfast," Adam replied.

The morning's chores were discussed over breakfast. Ben's intention was to try and keep Adam as close to either Joe or Hoss as possible without causing any added awkwardness. To begin their day, Hoss, Adam, and Joe would be close to the house, working on two of the Cartwrights' buggies. Axles needed to be lubricated, several wheels required a new spoke or two, and a spring was in need of replacement.

As the four men talked and ate their way through twelve flapjacks, three bowls of sweet strawberries, a mountain of crispy bacon, and two pots of coffee, Ben couldn't help but notice that Adam seemed very much at ease with Hoss and Joe. However, as relaxed as he was in conversation with them, he was equally as tense and formal when speaking to his father. To Ben, it seemed more than the polite, well-mannered behavior expected when speaking with an elder or an employer. Having his son sitting across the table from him should have been more than enough to squelch his concerns and fears, but Ben Cartwright's intuition told him that the internal battle still raging inside would jeopardize Adam's return to the family that loved him so dearly and needed him so desperately.

The sunshine that welcomed the day quickly warmed the early morning air. Before long, Joe's shirt, soaked in sweat and caked in dust, had been removed and tossed over the hitching post in the yard. As he sipped cool water from the well, Joe marveled at Adam's strength and work ethic.

"Definitely Adam," Joe thought as Adam carried a newly repaired wheel as if it weighed nothing. He watched as his brother tucked his sweat-drenched hair behind his ears before lifting the wheel into place. _The hair? Definitely not Adam._

Frequent water and shade breaks allowed the work to continue despite the rising heat. Joe engaged Adam at every opportunity as he tried to learn more of his whereabouts of late. Although Adam didn't appear to be avoiding Joe's seemingly innocent interrogation, he also did not provide any elaboration in his answers. One such topic, a discussion of the drought earlier that year, was interrupted when Sheriff Roy Coffee rode into the front yard. A panicked exchange between Hoss and Joe quickly subsided when Roy called out to the two brothers, ignoring the new 'hired hand'.

"Mornin', Hoss! Mornin', Joe! Is your father home?" Roy asked.

Before anyone could respond, Joe saw Ben strut onto the porch.

"I sure am! Mornin', Roy. What brings you all the way out here?"

"Well, Ben, I was over to the Saunders place 'n' thought I might just as well ride on over here 'n' see if I could get myself invited to one of Hop Sing's lunches before I head back to town." Roy tied his horse and crossed the yard.

"Of course, Roy, of course. You know you're always welcome."

Ben met Roy's outstretched hand and Joe saw the two share a knowing look that meant Paul had been in touch with Roy.

"Why, I thank you, Ben. I kinda thought I would be!" Roy turned his attention to the wagon in the yard and the three men who'd only briefly stopped their work when he arrived. "So what have you got these boys a yours workin' on today?"

"Oh, just fixin' up the buckboards. You know, little things here and there," Ben said as they crossed toward the wagon. "Sheriff Roy Coffee, I'd like you to meet our new hand. This is William."

"Good to meet you, son," Roy said as Adam wiped his hand on his jeans before offering it. "How long have you been with the Cartwrights?"

"Actually, today is my first day."

"Sure picked a hot one for workin' on ranch chores."

"You got that right, sheriff!" Adam said. He removed his black shirt, using the sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead before tossing it on top of Joe's already discarded shirt. When Adam knelt back down to pick up his work where he'd left off, his back was toward the others.

Ben looked at his eldest son and felt a stabbing pain in his chest. Joe closed his eyes and turned his head away. Hoss's insides swirled and roiled. And Roy's heart longed to comfort the four men he thought of as family.

For a split second, all eyes, save Adam's, were on Ben. A nearly imperceptible shake of his head was the silent answer they sought. No one spoke of the sight they'd all clearly seen - burns on Adam's back, skin that was healing, not yet completely scarred. The silence that followed was filled with questions, possibilities, and emotions.

It was Roy who cleared his throat and managed to pierce the deafening quiet. "Say, Ben, I need to talk to you about somethin'. Mind if we go inside?"

Ben wrenched his tear-filled eyes away from Adam's back.

"Sure, Roy. Let's go inside . . . where, ah . . . where it's a bit cooler. We'll let you boys know when lunch is ready."

"Sure thing, Pa," Joe answered as he worked at a rapid pace, trying to put aside what he'd seen.

Ben watched his youngest's frantic pace, knowing he was trying to look anywhere but at Adam's back. When Roy tapped Ben's shoulder, he jumped. Before going inside, Ben looked at Hoss, bent over a wheel as he knelt on the ground, his head hung low, his knuckles white from clutching a spoke as tightly as he could.

Ben paced the length of his bedroom as he and Roy Coffee discussed what they'd just witnessed.

"He's been burned, Roy! And from the looks of it, a lot more recently than when his letters stopped arriving!"

"Now, Ben, simmer down. You can't help Adam, I mean William, I mean, well, him if you go 'n' have yourself a heart attack!"

"He's my son, Roy! I have to help him!" Ben's pacing halted. "I'll send Joe for Doc Martin!"

"And then what? Force Adam to let Paul examine him? Try 'n' make him remember? Ben, now you know what Paul said. He has to remember on his own terms, in his own time. You can't go forcin' anything on him, Ben. You just can't!"

Ben started pacing again, raising not only his blood pressure, but his emotional state.

"Ben! Please calm down before I need to send Joe to get Paul for you!"

"Hm? What? Oh, I'm sorry Roy, I wasn't even aware."

"Lunch ready! Ev'rybody come now!" Hop Sing yelled from the foot of the stairs.

Adrenaline surged through Ben's body. He was a man of action, not one to stand by and let things develop on their own. He seldom acted on impulse, and the times he did consider rushing head on into a situation, Adam had always been there to stop him.

"Ben, it doesn't appear the boy's plannin' on leaving any time soon. He seems to have settled in with Hoss 'n' Joe. Let's go down 'n' have lunch. Then, we'll ride into town and have a talk with Paul. The three of us oughtta be able to come up with something."

Ben nervously tapped his hands against his thighs. "Yeah . . . I guess you're right. Maybe Paul will have an idea."

As the two friends reached the bedroom door, Ben stopped, turned to Roy and softly said, "Thank you, Roy."

"Any time, Ben, you know that. Any time."

Throughout lunch, Ben appreciated that Hoss and Joe did their best to keep the conversation going. His sons managed to mention several of Adam's favorite chores on the ranch, leaving Ben swollen with pride at their maturity and cleverness. Unfortunately, that pride had to be set aside as Ben observed Adam's lack of reaction to all of their clues.

"Hop Sing, that was a mighty fine lunch," Adam complimented, reaching for his coffee.

"Hop Sing glad Mister William like food."

"I did, very much. And thank you."

"Ben, I best be headin' to town. Don't want ev'ryone wonderin' what happened to the sheriff!"

"Roy, I'll ride along with you," Ben said. "I need to see Paul Martin and pick up a few things. You boys nearly finished with the wagon?"

"We got about another hour's work, Pa. 'N' then we'll get started on the corral gate," Hoss assured as he left the table.

"Hoss, you sure do crack the whip around here. Better watch out William," Joe winked. "Next thing you know, he'll have us paintin' the barn and sewin' curtains for the windows!"

"You know, Little Joe, I might do just that!" Hoss threatened as he picked up an apple from the large bowl on the great room table.

"Maybe you oughtta toss me and William some of those apples for later. Sounds like we'll be workin' up an appetite this afternoon."

Hoss quickly grabbed another apple and threw it to Joe. Snatching up another, he turned toward Adam and launched it in his direction. Ben grinned as Adam caught it with ease.

The friendly moment was short-lived when everyone noticed Adam, his eyes trained on the ornate bowl sitting on the table. Ben rose from his chair as Adam slowly moved toward the table, his hand absentmindedly turning the apple around and around.

"Help yourself, William. We've got bushels of apples this time of year," Joe added.

Adam sat on the settee, still staring at the bowl of apples.

"William? You all right?" Hoss asked.

"Hm? Oh, sorry. Yeah. It's just . . . I couldn't help but notice the detail work on this bowl."

Ben's voice flowed from his throat before he was aware he was speaking. "Have you ever seen one like it before?"

Hoss's eyes shifted to Joe. None of them knew for sure how far they could question Adam, to what lengths they could push him, how much they could say without forcing a memory. The abrupt silence in the room while waiting for Adam's response was almost painful.

"I'm not sure. Maybe. I . . . I guess it just caught my eye. Thank you again for lunch, Mr. Cartwright. I'll be heading back to work now," Adam said as he walked purposefully to the front door. Before lifting the latch, Ben caught him glancing back at the bowl.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Three days had passed since Adam had ridden onto the Ponderosa looking for work. Following Paul Martin's suggestions, Hoss and Joe spent those days ensuring that Adam had very little idle time to himself. While Paul admitted that he deeply regretted ignoring treatment for Adam's burns, they'd all agreed no one should draw attention to them unless it was Adam himself. Numerous wires were dispatched to prominent specialists all over the country describing Adam's case and the responses were all the same: 'Your patient must be allowed to discover his true identity in his own time and under uncontrolled circumstances'.

Though Adam was social enough with the Cartwrights, they were relieved when he showed no desire to rush off to the hustle and bustle of Virginia City. Everyone agreed that he would be recognized the minute he set foot in town and there would be no way of preventing an old friend from welcoming Adam back home. As for the hands due to return to the Ponderosa in four days, several different strategies were being considered. Most of them had been hired well after Adam's departure, but three of the men would remember their former boss.

Hoss and Ben set off early that morning for Virginia City. After meeting up with Roy, their first stop would be Paul Martin's place. Several more wires would have arrived by then and the four men planned to brainstorm yet again.

Joe and Adam were off riding fence at the crack of dawn. One section along the north perimeter had seen better days and the two young men wasted no time with the repairs. They worked well together and Adam was impressed by the younger man's work ethics, his knowledge and his willingness to take instruction and suggestions from a relative stranger. Adam felt comfortable with this young man. He enjoyed their banter as it flowed from them both, freely and openly, as if they'd spent a lifetime together. At times, the working atmosphere was so familiar and comfortable that Adam felt he could remain on the Ponderosa much longer than he'd stayed put in any one place before.

Working their way north to south, they came upon a low spot in the terrain, one section of fencing that stood deep in thick, dark mud.

"There's no sense in both of us wallowing in this mess. I'll take care of this section," Joe offered.

"All right. You won't get an argument from me. But if you need a hand, just let me know. And watch yourself."

Adam's remark touched Joe. All the years of wishing his eldest brother would see him as more than just a little kid seemed to blossom into the realization that Adam was simply looking out for his younger brother.

The two worked apart for an hour or so, nearly finishing the job in record time. Joe was about to lift the final board of his section into place when his footing gave way as he stepped unknowingly into a rather deep spot in the muck and mud. As he slid, he tossed the large timber off to the side and made an unsuccessful attempt to grab hold of another cross beam.

"Dang!" Joe shouted as his leg scraped against the splintering line post, tearing through his trousers and deep into his skin.

"Joe? You all right? Joe?"

"Yeah . . . I'm all right. I think."

With ease, Adam pulled Joe to his feet and with Adam's support, the two made their way to a nearby tree surrounded by shade. Slowly lowering Joe to the ground, they got their first close look at the injury to Joe's leg.

"You know, you look pretty good in that shade of mud!" Adam teased, hoping to take Joe's mind off the gash in his leg.

"Very funny! Next time, you take the mud hole!" He grimaced.

"We're about half an hour from the house, right?" Adam asked as he prepared to treat Joe's leg as best he could.

"Yeah," Joe replied, wincing as Adam's pocket knife sliced through the leg of his trousers.

"Same distance to town?"

Joe's face was pale, more from the thought of Adam taking him to Virginia City than from the wound itself.

"No. Virginia City's a lot further." Joe lied. "Better get me back to the Ponderosa. Pa and Hoss should be back any time now."

Using his bandana as a tourniquet and a torn-off shirt sleeve as a bandage, Adam bandaged the wound. Concern about the amount of bleeding kept Adam focused as he lifted Joe onto the buckboard and propped his leg to help slow the blood loss. After tying Cochise to the wagon, Adam climbed into the seat and headed for the Ponderosa. As they bumped and tottered along the road, he talked to Joe in an attempt to keep him conscious. He understood how much pain an injury like Joe's would cause and though Joe was putting on a brave front, Adam could hear the pain coming through his friend's voice.

When they reached the house, there was no sign of Ben or Hoss. Adam carried Joe from the wagon to his bedroom. As he climbed the stairs, his concern for Joe overshadowed the feeling that he'd walked these stairs before. The feeling was comforting and relaxing, despite his worry for Joe's survival. Still covered in mud-soaked clothes, Adam saw Joe shiver as he set him gently on a chair.

"Can you sit?"

"Yeah. No problem." Joe whispered through clenched teeth.

"I'll get some soap and water and clean clothes and get you washed up," Adam said as he removed Joe's mud-caked boots, "and then get you into bed. You sure your father and Hoss will be back soon?"

"Yeah, I'm sh . . . sure."

Adam cared for Joe quickly, gently and thoroughly, all the while encouraging him as he worked. His mind remained focused as he cut through the remaining fabric of Joe's trousers, removed his clothing, cleansed the gash on his thigh, washed the mud from his hands and face and finally dressed Joe in a clean night shirt. Something was worrying Adam. Whenever he stopped engaging Joe, Joe remained silent. So as he lifted Joe into bed and finished with the dressing of his wound, Adam queried Joe about everything and anything he could think of, trying to keep him conscious as long as possible. When Joe finally drifted off, Adam wasn't sure if he should waken him or let him rest. He covered him with a quilt, checked his forehead for signs of a fever, then went downstairs to wait for Ben and Hoss's return.

As he descended the stairs, vertigo materialized out of nowhere. Grabbing hold of the railing, Adam lowered himself to the steps as the great room below tilted and distorted. Bile rose up in his throat and he closed his eyes to the chaos around him. The darkness did not help; it twisted and spun as well. After a few minutes, Adam tested the waters by opening his eyes, expecting to see more of the coiling furniture and twirling walls. To his relief, the room sat still and silent. He raised himself slowly, praying for the stillness to continue. Carefully, he descended the remaining steps as his stomach returned to normal and his breathing slowed. Relieved that the ground was once again a solid structure, he gathered his thoughts as he listened for Joe upstairs and for the Cartwrights' horses outside. A glimpse to his left raised the bile again as he stared at the grand, sturdy desk sitting beneath a window. This time, the room remained steady though his stomach did not. A strange yearning came over him. He needed to touch the desk.

"This is ridiculous!" Adam thought.

Turning away from the desk, Adam walked across the room toward the settee. He looked at the bowl on the table, a chill running through him as he recalled that morning when the bowl seemed to be calling to him. Lowering himself onto the settee, he rubbed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to shake these unexplainable feelings. When he lifted his head, he was looking straight at the impressive stone fireplace, sturdy and imposing. The hair on the back of his neck crawled over his skin and uncalled-for tears filled his eyes.

"What is happening to me?" he said aloud as his eyes set free several tears.

Just then, he heard a weak voice coming from upstairs. He was unable to make out what Joe was saying, but knowing that Joe needed him yanked him painfully from his daydream nightmare and sent him rushing unencumbered up the same stairs that just moments ago had sent him reeling.

As Adam hurried down the hallway toward Joe's room, a dull thud followed by another moan of pain urged him to move even faster. When he crossed the threshold he found Joe lying on the floor next to his bed, his blankets cascading over the edge from his fall. Speeding to his side, Adam gently turned him over to find a small pool of blood on the floor beneath Joe's thigh.

"Hang on, Joe!" Adam begged as he lifted Joe and placed him on his back. Tearing a sheet from the bottom of the bed, Adam ripped it into strips and redressed the wound as Joe mumbled on and on about a wolf and being shot.

"Joe, you've got a fever. A pretty high one. You're safe at home, on the Ponderosa. There's no wolf here, Joe. You cut your leg, remember? You haven't been shot." Adam glanced around the room. "Where's the rest of your family? They should've been back by now!"

With Joe's leg tended to, Adam considered ways to lower Joe's fever. A cooling wet cloth to his forehead and opening his window seemed logical and even if they didn't really help, Adam felt as if he were doing something for his friend. The strain of falling out of bed followed by Adam's ministrations exhausted Joe and he quickly drifted to sleep as his brother spoke to him in a calming, steady voice. With the window ajar, it was easy to hear the sounds of approaching riders. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Adam hastened across the room and called out to the front yard.

"Mr. Cartwright! Up here! It's Joe! He's been hurt!"

Watching Hoss and Ben leap from their mounts, Adam was overjoyed to realize there were three riders: Doctor Martin had returned with the Cartwrights. He heard the front door crash against the sideboard, a stampede of ascending footsteps and then saw Ben materialize in the doorway as if out of thin air. Adam was stirred by the patriarch's heartrending expression as he hurried to the side of his youngest son. Hoss and Doctor Martin were close behind and Paul assertively pushed Hoss aside in order to examine Joe's leg.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"He fell against a fence post. There was mud. Lots of mud, inside the wound. I got him back here, cleaned it up as best I could. He slept for a bit, then he fell out of bed and the leg started to bleed again."

"How long ago did this happen?" Paul asked.

"Two hours, I guess. He has a fever. Maybe I didn't . . . Maybe I should have-"

"You did fine, Ad . . . William. Just fine," Doc Martin assured. "I'm gonna need more bandages and water."

"I'll get 'em," Hoss said as he ran for the door.

"How does it look, Paul?" Ben asked, his voice hushed and full of fear.

"Its deep and I don't like that he's developed this fever. William really did do all the right things, Ben. Let's just concentrate on getting this fever down."

"Mr. Cartwright?"

"What is it, William?"

"Joe. He was rambling for a while, something about a wolf and being shot."

Just then Hoss returned toting towels, bandages, and fresh water. He smiled. Remembering the day Adam accidentally shot Joe during a wolf attack had never before been a source of possible pleasure. Hoss shot a hopeful look to his father, but Ben's concerns were only of the here and now.

"I'm sure it was the fever talking, Mr. Cartwright. I just thought you should know," Adam continued as Ben stroked Joe's forehead.

"All right, I believe I have everything I'll need. I want everyone out so I can tend to my patient," Paul ordered, knowing full well that an argument from Ben was about to commence.

"Paul, I'm staying with Joseph."

"No, Ben. I want you downstairs and sitting in a chair. These past few days have-" Paul managed to catch himself before he could blurt out any hints about Adam. "You won't be any help to Joe if you don't calm down and take it easy. Hoss?"

"C'mon, Pa. Let's do what the doc says."

Ben whispered encouragement to his son then reluctantly left the room, followed by Hoss and Adam.

"I'll curry the horses, Mr. Cartwright," Adam offered. "And see that they've got whatever they need."

Whether or not Ben heard him, it was Hoss who acknowledged Adam's statement.

"Thanks, William. For ev'rything."

Hoss's sincerity touched Adam and he smiled at the big man helping his father into the comfort-worn chair by the fireplace. As he reached the door, Adam hesitated. "Hoss, you'll come get me if there's anything I can do?"

"Of course I will."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

An hour had gone by at a snail's pace when Adam finished in the barn. As he walked to the house, he tried futilely to convince himself that the fact that he hadn't been summoned back inside should leave him feeling optimistic. Rapping lightly on the front door, it was no surprise when no one answered. Doc Martin certainly would have allowed that they be at Joe's side by now. It wasn't until he was halfway across the great room that a thought dawned on Adam. It felt neither strange nor an intrusion to have let himself into the Cartwright home. Climbing the stairs, he listened for voices coming from Joe's room, but heard only silence. As he approached the bedroom, he heard a low, soothing voice. Ben Cartwright was speaking to his youngest son.

"Joseph. It's Pa. Please, Joseph, open your eyes."

Adam stood silently entranced in the doorway. The sound of Ben's voice made him shudder as he emphatically pleaded for Joe to wake up.

"Please, Joseph." Ben's voice caught within his throat as he reached for his son's hand.

Adam heard a profound sigh as he looked away from the private scene before him. Deep in thought, Adam startled when Hoss touched his shoulder.

"Doc says he should'a been awake by now. He's still got the fever, but it ain't gone up none. Pa ain't doin' so good. I was just about to make some coffee. Would you mind stayin' here, in case the doc or Pa needs somethin'?"

"I'll be here . . . Hoss?"

"Yeah?"

"I, uh, I know you don't know me very well, but, well, I've got a strong feeling that Joe's gonna be all right. Can't explain it. Just a feeling I've got."

Hoss's warm, genuine smile filled the doorway like a ray of spring sunshine after a long, severe winter. Adam didn't notice the ray of optimism. His eyes were still focused on the silver-haired man and his son.

"That means more than you know, William. More than you know," Hoss whispered, blinking back tears as he walked downstairs and headed for the kitchen.

When Hoss returned with a tray of coffee and cups, he found Adam just outside Joe's room sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.

"Ain't no need for you to be sittin' out here William. You can go on in."

"No, that's all right, Hoss. Feels like a family thing in there right now. Best I stay out of the way."

"But you're . . . Suit yourself."

"Hoss, seeing as how you're back, I'll be in the bunkhouse if you need me," Adam said as he rose to his feet.

Hoss nodded as he turned his full attention to his father and little brother. Ben's pallor was worrisome, but no more so than Joe's reddened, feverish complexion. Hoss managed, with effort, to extract Ben from Joe's side long enough to sip a cup of coffee.

Though his eyes never left his youngest son, Ben sat inhaling the breeze through the opened window as he nursed the strong, hot brew. He kept a close watch as Hoss cooled Joe's forehead with loving strokes of a wet cloth. He recalled numerous, painful scenes just like the one playing out before his eyes and he wondered why he'd never actually counted the number of times one of his sons had been seriously injured. After a second's thought, he was thankful he had not. It was in this moment that Ben scanned the room for Adam, his eldest son.

"He went to the bunkhouse, Pa," Hoss said.

"He should be here," Ben whispered as an unseen force constricted his chest. "When we're together, we can get through anything."

Hoss swallowed hard. So hard, he was sure his father must have heard it from across the room. He knew Ben was right. When united, the Cartwrights were unfaltering. But as Hoss studied the body of his little brother, vulnerable and exposed, he thought back on the past year and couldn't keep a recurring thought from invading his mind. _Pa . . . you weren't there for me 'n' Joe when Adam disappeared. I know you were hurtin' . . . Hurtin' somethin' fierce. But we were hurtin', too. 'N' even though you did yer best, you weren't there._

Sunset that evening was spectacular even for the Ponderosa. Hoss had taken the chair nearest the window and marveled at the beautiful creation forming on the horizon. But the façade of an idyllic end to a chaotic day wore heavily on Hoss's mind. Joe was alive and improving, his fever was diminishing gradually and his leg showed no signs of infection. These were all signs that, according to the doctor, meant Joe was on his way to a complete recovery. Hoss knew that fact should be enough cause for celebration. But Adam was in the bunkhouse, oblivious to his true identity. And Hoss's heart was racked with guilt over the internal accusations he'd made against his beloved father earlier that evening.

Ben had finally dozed off next to Joe's bed and Doc Martin was well on his way back to Virginia City. With his head in his hands, Hoss rubbed his temples, trying without success to ease the worries playing on his conscience. When his attempts failed, he strode across the room and tenderly placed a blanket across his sleeping father's chest. After a quick assessment of Joe's comfort, Hoss retreated to the bedroll on the buckboard in the barn, another uncomfortable night of sleep providing assurance that Adam would still be there in the morning.

Days had passed since Adam had added to his journal. He'd thought about it, several times, but hadn't followed through. He still had no reason for owning the journal nor had he read through any of his entries. Simply put, he was drawn to the idea of recording his random thoughts with no comprehension of why. Adam set a large oil lamp on the battered old table, struck a match from the box on the window sill of the bunkhouse and lit the wick. As the level of light increased and danced in the breeze from the opened window, he replaced the chimney then rifled through his bags for his journal. He pulled out the delicate music box he'd carried for as long as he could remember and placed it lovingly on the bedside table. Then he noticed the journal lying opened on the bed, nearly covered by his bag. A sizeable yawn escaped him and following a substantial amount of stretching, Adam decided that coffee was necessary. A short walk later, he was brewing a pot in the Ponderosa's large, well-equipped kitchen. Adam considered going upstairs to check on his employers, but the silence that filled the house and the doctor's missing buggy suggested that everyone had settled in for the night.

With a fresh pot of coffee in hand, Adam returned to the bunkhouse, turned up the lamp, poured himself a steaming cup and pulled a chair up to the small bunkhouse table. A lone pencil from his saddlebag in hand, he opened the journal to the first blank page. As he recounted the details of the work day from its lackluster beginnings to Joe's upsetting accident, Adam's heart rate began to accelerate. Though he'd barely enjoyed half of his cup of coffee, he mentally blamed the swill for the rapid heartbeat. By the time his written account reached Joe's accident, Adam felt the beginnings of a headache. He rubbed his eyes and turned up the lamp, hoping the brighter glow would ease the eye strain. After filling his cup yet again, he continued penning more details in his latest entry.

Hoss's remorse over the mental accusations he'd made against his father delayed his sleep for quite some time. Once he finally drifted off, his dreams were filled with irrational apologies made to strangers in unknown surroundings. Tossing and turning, quite the feat on the hard surface of the buckboard, was making for a long, restless night.

Ben had awakened in the chair with a crick in his neck, no doubt a product of dozing in an uncomfortable position. After adjusting the blankets around Joe's resting body, he stood, stretched and moved to the open window to fill his lungs with the cool night air. Instinctively, Ben knew Hoss must have assumed his role as night watchman in barn. A quick massage of the back of his neck led to taking a seat in the old chair next to the window. He studied the stars, bright in the sky, until, as the moon cast a glow against his face and the breeze wafted into the room, he floated off to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

_The effects of the fever sent Joe into a terrifying scenario of being shot and attacked by a wolf. Poor kid. I can't recall ever seeing such horror on a young man's face. I lifted him back into bed and dealt with the newly reopened wound as quickly as I was able. Joe just kept mumbling, "I'm shot" and "Get him off me". Poor kid. I tried and tried to make him hear me, to let him know he was safe, that there was no wolf and he hadn't been . . ._

Adam stared at the stilled pen in his trembling hand. As it slipped slowly from his fingers, his surroundings swirled and twisted. He clamped his eyes shut and the dizzying canvas temporarily disappeared, only to return as he opened his eyes once again. His stomach roiled as he fought its demanding urge to empty itself. Shutting his eyes again and finding calm and peaceful darkness momentarily eased his suffering. This time, when his eyes opened, the room and its contents sat motionless, undisturbed. He rubbed his temples as he slowly recovered from this latest daydream.

He was about to close the journal, leaving the latest entry incomplete, but thought better of it and lifted pen to paper to conclude his thoughts. Skimming his last paragraph to take up where he'd left off, Adam absentmindedly tapped the pen against the table until the words forming in his head made their way to the paper.

_. . . I tried to let him know he was safe, that there was no wolf and he hadn't been . . . been . . . shot._

As Adam crossed the 'T' of the simple four-letter-word, a piercing pain shot through his head. He cried out as the pain became a dull, throbbing ache that filled his skull and pounded in his ears. His body feebly attempted to adjust to the torture and he had the presence of mind to call for help, the sound of his voice echoing through his head, loud and strong. However, the only sound that actually came from him was a weak, quivering plea for help. The stabbing pain returned and Adam, head held tightly in both hands, struggled to get to his feet. Midway to standing, his balance was lost as the room once again contorted and whirled. Falling forward onto the table, he tipped the coffee pot, releasing steaming liquid that spilled onto his legs. Through the mental fog, he instinctively reached out to right the pot but instead toppled the oil lamp, breaking the glass chimney and exposing the flaming wick against the wood surface of the table.

Within seconds, the dry wood of the old table ignited. The intensity of the pain surging through his head completely blocked out the flames as Adam stumbled across the room and collapsed into his bunk. Unconscious, he was unaware of the growing path of the fire and the ever-thickening, smoke-filled air.

After an hour or so of propping his head, Ben's arm had succumbed to that annoying pins and needles tingle. The prickly feeling roused him from his sleep and left him massaging the blood back into his lower arm. It appeared to him that Joe hadn't moved an inch since he'd checked him last. He felt the corners of his mouth being tugged upward at the sight of his son sleeping so soundly after the ordeal he'd faced the day before. A sense of hope washed over him as he thought of Hoss out in the barn keeping watch over Adam's pinto. As the blood returned to his arm, he exhaled a sigh of relief that all three of his sons were within his loving reach, at home on their Ponderosa.

As he stood to stretch his legs, Ben inhaled deeply, smelling first the crisp night air, and then the faint odor of smoke. Returning to the window, Ben scanned the horizon and sniffed repeatedly, searching for the source. His eyes rewarded him with a clear night sky filled with twinkling points of light and a large, three-quarter moon that lit up the barn and surrounding area. His nose gifted him with the sweet, subtle scent of honeysuckle and the clean aroma of nature. Backing away from the window, Ben shook the thought of fire out of his mind until a distressing sound emanated from the barn. Buck and Cochise screamed back and forth in warning to each other and were soon joined by Sport, Chubb and an unknown horse Ben assumed was Adam's pinto. Rushing back to the window, Ben saw the tell tale flicker of a dancing orange and red glow against the front of the barn.

"The house is on fire!" Ben whispered in disbelief as he struggled to focus his eyes through the darkness. "No . . . Not the house. The bunkhouse! HOSS! HOSS! FIRE! THE BUNKHOUSE IS ON FIRE!"

Ben ran into the upstairs hallway to survey an escape route. Thankfully, the staircase and great room stood whole and smokeless, as if unaware of the impending danger. Sprinting back into Joe's room, Ben gathered up his heavily drugged son, taking care to wrap him in a thick blanket. Adrenaline spirited the patriarch down the stairs and halfway across the yard before he realized he'd lifted his son from his bed. A panicked Hoss darted through the barn door, nearly colliding with his father.

"Pa! Pa, are you and Joe all right?"

"Yeah," Ben gasped, his heart racing. "We're fine. I'll get Joe into the barn. Hoss . . . Hoss, get Adam, son. Get your brother!"

Inside the barn, Ben placed Joe gently onto the buckboard using Hoss's bedroll as a cushion. A quick check of the bandages on his leg revealed no signs of new bleeding. He covered Joe with an extra blanket and tenderly brushed two loose curls from his forehead.

"You'll be safe here. I'll be back, Joe . . . I'll be back."

With one fluid motion, Hoss kicked the bunkhouse door completely off its hinges. Locating Adam would prove to be a daunting task through the thick smoke that had flooded the air in the room. Hoss called out to Adam, but the sound of his voice was muted by the roar of the flames climbing the walls and engulfing the table and nearby chairs. With a blanket he snatched from a drawer, he managed to smother the spreading flames on one chair, and then quickly tossed what was left of the smoldering wood out into the yard. He beat the blanket against the table as one of its legs collapsed under the intense destruction.

"Hoss! Hoss, did you find him?" Ben screamed as he joined in the effort.

"No, Pa!" Hoss choked and coughed. "The smoke . . . It's so thick!"

Ben tied his bandana over his nose and mouth and left Hoss to deal with the fire itself as he felt his way around the room. Most of what he blindly touched was easily identifiable, a dresser, several books piled on a table, a large bag, most likely belonging to Adam. In the haze, he lost sight of Hoss and called out to him, but his only response from his son was more choking and hacking. The opened door seemed to be drawing out some of the smoke, but as the fire spread across several bunks and more wooden furniture, the smoke thickened yet again.

Hoss managed to extinguish flames on two more chairs and the larger of the tables before tossing them outside into the cool night air. He'd burned his right hand and his lungs sizzled with every breath, but his only concern was for Adam and his father. A light breeze blew through the opened door, temporarily clearing some of the dense smoke. Hoss could see someone moving on the opposite side of the room. Unable to tell if it was Adam or his father, he continued beating against the blaze, determined that he would soon have control of the inferno.

Ben stumbled into a nightstand and toppled atop of a bunk. Steadying himself, his hand skimmed across the flat surface. He touched a medium sized oil lamp, a thin leather-covered book and a small oval-shaped object; an object that for some reason seemed familiar as he held it in his hand. Two steps to the right and Ben, his eyes burning and his throat parched, bumped into yet another bunk. He felt his way down the length of the bed, finding rumpled blankets and a hand.

"Adam!" Ben roared.

Hearing his father crying his brother's name, Hoss immediately made his way toward the sound and together they lifted Adam's unconscious body from the bunk. Stepping over what they could see to avoid, crashing and bumping into the rest, they managed to carry him to safety out in the yard.

"Pa?" Hoss pleaded, praying as he hacked and spit the smoke and ashes from his mouth, throat and lungs.

"He's alive, Hoss!" Ben shouted, his throat tightening from the smoke's irritation and the raw emotion of the moment. "He's alive!" he whimpered.

Hoss hesitated long enough to flash a wide grin, clap his father on the shoulder and take one more look at his older brother before resuming the fire fight. From inside the barn, Hoss grabbed several more blankets, doused them in the horse trough and made his way back into the bunkhouse. The intense heat had shattered several oil lamp chimneys and exposure to that heat ignited the oil inside. Once again, the smoke billowed throughout the large room as Hoss stayed as low as possible, thrashing the soaked blankets against the flames.

Out in the yard, Ben exhaled an enormous sigh of relief after examining Adam's body for signs of injury and finding none. Clutching his son's hand in his, Ben glanced back at the barn. Joe was undoubtedly still asleep, otherwise he was sure his youngest son would have made his way to the yard by now. Turning his stare toward the bunkhouse, his heart skipped a beat at the thought of Hoss, still inside the burning building, fighting to halt the spread of the fire.

A soft groan from Adam snapped his attention back to the yard as he stroked Adam's forehead just the way he had so many times when he was a boy. Gazing at his face, Ben recalled an afternoon years before when Adam had been thrown from his pony in just about that exact spot in the yard. Adam had been unconscious then as well and Ben remembered carrying his son to his room, waiting impatiently for the doctor to arrive and praying while clutching the silver framed photograph of Elizabeth. In that split second of the memory, an unmistakable image passed through Ben's vision. The music box. Elizabeth's music box. Before Ben's brain was able to match the swiftness of his movements, he was up and inside the bunkhouse, feeling his way through the smoke, identifying textures and shapes, trying desperately to locate the night stand and the delicate, oval-shaped music box.

As Hoss's coughing encumbered his abilities to continue, he ran out into the yard to fill his lungs with smoke-less air before returning to the blaze. He staggered through the door, stumbled, fell to the ground and rolled away from the burning building. Seconds later, he managed to rise to his knees, choking and gasping for each breath. Wiping sweat and soot from his brow onto the back of his hand, he struggled to focus his irritated eyes as he scanned the yard for Adam and his father. When finally Adam's prone shape came into focus, Hoss panicked with the realization that his father was nowhere in sight.

"Must . . . be with . . . Joe," Hoss whispered between spasms.

Hoss pushed himself up onto his feet, hands on his thighs to steady his spinning head. A sound caught his attention and by the time he was able to lift his head without the world around him spinning and swirling, he saw Adam bending his left knee as he wrestled himself to consciousness. Hoss weaved and wobbled his way over to Adam and dropped to the ground next to him with a resounding thud.

"What . . . " Adam mumbled when he saw the stars above his head.

"There's a fire . . . in . . . in the bunkhouse." Hoss coughed and spit bits of soot from his mouth. "We found you in there . . . 'n' broughtcha out here."

Adam pushed himself up on his elbows and froze when he caught sight of the bunkhouse. "Joe? Your father? Did you get them out of the house?"

"Yeah. Pa carried Joe out. They're in the barn. Look, you stay put. I'm goin' back in there . . . Gotta put that fire out!"

Hoss was half-way back to the bunkhouse when the barn door banged open and Joe appeared. As he leaned heavily against the door frame, Hoss rushed to his side.

"Joe! Joe! Come on, Li'l Joe . . . You gotta get back inside now. Wait! Where's Pa?"

"I don't know. What's goin' on?" Joe tried to shake the drug in his system. "Why was I in the barn?"

Hoss lowered Joe, leaning him against the barn before storming inside in search of his father.

"Pa! Pa! Where are you?" Hoss pleaded. When there was no response, and Hoss had assured himself his father was nowhere to be seen, he hurried back into the yard.

"Hoss, where's Pa?" Joe cried.

Ignoring his brother's pleas, Hoss made for the bunkhouse as his coughing intensified from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Where's your father?" Adam yelled as he stood on shaky legs.

"I thought he was with Joe!" Hoss rushed past Adam. "He must have gone back inside!"

Hoss had no sooner set one foot inside the burning bunkhouse when a large ceiling beam snapped, the sound so loud, it penetrated the roar from the blaze. Hoss raised his eyes upward just as the beam fractured further and collapsed to the ground, taking Hoss along for the tumble. Pinned beneath the beam, Hoss was helpless to search for his father.

Adam was mere steps behind Hoss. With Hoss pushing from underneath, he quickly hauled the beam upward and shoved it to the side, clearing the way for Hoss's escape. Unable to walk on his broken ankle and heavily bruised leg, Hoss accepted Adam's help as the two scrambled back outside and over to Joe. Gently lowering Hoss to the ground next to his little brother, Adam coughed and gagged as the effects of the smoke invaded his lungs.

"I said I'm all right!" Hoss hollered. "I have to find Pa!"

Finally coherent enough to grasp the situation unfolding around him, Joe clutched Hoss's forearm. "Pa's in there? The place is on fire! We have to get him out!"

Adam stumbled backward as an enormous wave of nausea nearly felled him to the ground. His head once again throbbed with a piercing pain and the ground beneath him seemed to be giving, shifting, receding, and expanding between his feet. He grabbed his head with both hands and let out an animal-like shriek that stunned and frightened both Hoss and Joe.

As Hoss was pulling himself upright, Joe was attempting to do the same. They stared at their brother, his long soot covered hair and untrimmed beard adding to the look of a madman as his head twisted and writhed in pain.

"Fire . . . Pa . . . Pa . . . Fire . . . ." Adam whispered softly, a whisper unheard by his brothers. Suddenly, the pain in Adam's head vanished. His equilibrium righted itself. And he ran, without hesitation, instinctively, straight into the blazing bunkhouse, intent on saving his father.

"Pa! . . . Pa! . . . Answer me! Pa! . . . Pa, it's Ad . . . It's . . ." Adam doubled over as the pain in his head returned. Dropping to his knees, his vision clouded, from the pain or the smoke, he couldn't be sure. As he labored to stand, a groan distracted him from his ordeal. "Pa? Pa . . . I'm coming!"

Ben made his way to the open window, hoping the air would be a little less toxic. Leaning heavily, his forearm against the wall, he coughed against his sleeve and gasped for air as the smoke caught in his throat. When the spasms mercifully eased, he cocked his head toward a faint sound.

"Pa! . . . Pa!"

Ben clamped his eyelids as tightly as he could, trying to shut out the intense heat, the suffocating smoke and the roar and crackle of the fire. Again the voice could be heard in the distance, and Ben recognized it to be Adam's.

"That's not possible," Ben thought. "Adam's unconscious, out in the yard. And Joe . . . The barn . . . must . . . must be Hoss." Raising his head from where he'd been leaning on the wall, Ben looked into the haze, eager to see Hoss's form coming closer.

"Pa? . . . Pa, where are you?"

"That's Adam!" Ben cried. "I must be . . . He called for me . . . for his pa . . . Adam." Unable to breathe, racked with fear and agonizing emotion, Ben slid to the floor.

"Pa!" Adam cried as he caught sight of Ben's silhouette against the floor.

Outside, Hoss limped, struggling with every step to make it to the bunkhouse door. "Pa! . . . William!"

Feeling helpless and useless, Joe released his white-knuckled grip on the barn door's frame and fought to make his body respond to the simple command of walking. As he managed two small pain-filled steps, he prayed for his father and Adam, and watched his big brother's agony as he limped his way toward the burning bunkhouse.

Inside, the flames appeared to be dying out. Adam reached Ben and scooped him, with no effort at all, onto his shoulder. He walked, burdened, yet sure-footed, through the billowing smoke.

"Pa!" Hoss yelled from the doorway.

"I've got him, Hoss!" Adam hollered. "I've got him!"

Out in the yard, still making his way at a snail's pace as he dragged his injured leg, Joe heard the sounds of approaching horses. As they rounded the barn at a full gallop, he recognized several of the Ponderosa hands returning from the trail.

"The bunkhouse is on fire!" someone shouted. "I told ya I smelled smoke!" The men jumped from their horses and immediately formed a brigade from the trough to the bunkhouse.

"Little Joe, are ya all right, boy?" Smithy yelled.

"Yeah, I am . . . Hoss is hurt . . . And Pa and Adam . . . Help them!"

"Adam? Joe, did you say Adam?"

"Yeah! He's come home, Smithy," Joe cried, knowing he was disregarding Doc Martin's advice to let Adam remember on his own. "Adam's come home!"

Adam finally reached the bunkhouse door. Andy and Rob ran to his side but he waved them off, telling them to help Hoss instead. Tears ran freely down Joe's face when he saw his father and brothers coming out of the smoking building and toward the barn.

"I'll ride for the doc!" Andy yelled as the rest of the men doused the last of the flames.

Rob found Hoss a place near the barn and gently propped the big man's leg before removing his boot. All eyes were on father and eldest son as Adam carefully lowered Ben to the ground. Adam removed the bandana from Ben's nose and mouth and caressed his father's forehead before checking for injuries.

"Pa! . . . Pa, can you hear me?" Adam begged.

Joe turned to Hoss as they both realized what they'd just heard. Adam. Not William. Adam.

Joe's body shook racked with sobs of joy as he whispered his brother's name. Letting loose of the fence post he'd been clinging to, he slid to the ground as every remaining ounce of energy filled his heart through his tears.

Hoss painlessly ran his burned hand through his hair as he tried in vain to blink back his own swell of tears. Squeezing his eyes shut, he filled his mind with silent thanks for the lives of his family and the men who'd stopped the blaze.

Smithy knelt next to Ben and covered him with blankets he'd grabbed from the barn. He did the same for Joe and Hoss, wrapping their shoulders against the chilled night air.

"Pa! Pa, please open your eyes," Adam prayed.

"Adam?" Smithy said as he smiled down at his long-time friend.

"Huh?"

The old hand laid the blanket over Adam's shoulders.

"Oh, thanks Smithy," Adam nodded. "Joe? You try!" Adam suggested, hoping Joe could rouse Ben.

"No, Adam. You keep trying. If anyone can bring Pa around tonight, it's you."

Adam reached for Ben's hand, only to find it filled with an object. He loosened his father's grip and found the music box that had belonged to Elizabeth, Adam's mother. Taking it from his father's hand, he set it aside and the lid on the cherub-adorned box fell open releasing the comforting tune amid the sounds of the night.

"Pa? Pa? It's Adam. Please Pa, open-"

"Adam?" Ben's raspy voice mumbled. "Adam? Fire. Joe? Hoss?"

"Everyone's here, Pa," Joe assured. "The fire's out. We're all okay."

"Yeah, Pa. We're all okay," Hoss added.

"Fire," Ben groaned. "The bunkhouse . . . " He tried to raise himself up, the movement bringing on a coughing fit.

"Pa, the fire's out." Adam held his father's hand. "Hoss twisted his ankle. No one else was hurt. Andy went for Doc Martin. Just lie still, Pa. You took in a lot of smoke."

"But-"

"Pa, don't fight me on this! You need to stay put until Paul gets here!"

"Don't raise your voice to me, boy!" Ben's feeble attempt at raising his voice produced nothing more than a croaky sentence barely beyond a whisper. Still, Hoss and Joe exchanged worried glances as Adam stared defiantly at their father.

"Guess we don't need the doc after all," Adam said.

"Huh?" Hoss questioned.

"Sounds to me like Pa's back to his old self and is gonna be just fine!" Adam grinned.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Ben, I don't like this!" Paul scolded. "You should be resting in the bed, not running around as if nothing happened!"

Ben slid his hand across the music box sitting on his bedside table, then straightened to his full height, hoping to exercise his most intimidating stature. "Paul, Joseph is back in his own bed where he can finally start healing. Hoss is in there with his swollen ankle elevated and his injured little brother in his protective plain sight. And the brother they haven't seen for years, the brother they thought might be dead, is in there with them both. I can promise you this," Ben declared, his finger pointing close to Paul's face as he stood even taller, "I am walking across the hall to Joseph's room, and if you think you can stop me . . . Go ahead and try!"

Taking two steps to the right, Paul Martin reluctantly moved out of Ben's way then, shaking his head, turned to watch his good friend storm across the room and out the door.

"Damned stubborn Cartwrights!" he mumbled as he followed along to Joe's room.

"Next thing I knew, I woke up in the barn! I'm guessing I didn't walk down there on my own accord," Joe admitted.

"No, Joe, you didn't! Pa carried you. I was just comin' outta the barn when he was bringin' you in," Hoss continued.

"Wait," Adam said, holding his hand up then pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've followed both of you so far. But Hoss, what were you doing in the barn in the middle of the night?"

Amid all the commotion, chaos, and adrenaline, no one had yet determined what, if anything, Adam remembered from his time as William.

"Hoss, didn't you say you heard the horses causing a ruckus? So you went into the barn to check on them?" Paul asked, his voice filled to the brim with innuendo and warning.

Adam's attention was drawn to the doctor and the brief glances between Joe, Hoss, and Ben went unnoticed.

"That's right," Hoss said, his response sounding more like a question than a reply. "The fire musta spooked 'em. I went straight to the barn 'n' didn't even spot the fire."

"What about the smoke? You didn't smell the smoke?" Adam asked.

If there was one thing Hoss hated doing, it was lying. Especially to his family. But an unyielding stare from Paul convinced Hoss that one more lie was necessary.

"Guess it must be this dadblamed cold I'm gettin'. Didn't smell a thing. Not 'til Pa told me 'bout the fire 'n' I kicked the door in."

Having taken in all the implications and overtones of the conversation, Joe stepped in to shift the pressure away from Hoss just as Adam was about to ask another question. After a forced, but convincing, series of yawns, Joe twisted uncomfortably in his bed.

"I suggest we all take a cue from Little Joe and get some rest. Doctor's orders!" Paul growled, "Seeing as how it's nearly morning, Ben, if it's all right with you, I'll bed down here for a bit before heading back to town."

"Of course, Paul. I'll walk you down to the guest room and get you settled."

Hoss limped, with Adam's help, into the hallway. After the eventful night they'd experienced, helping Hoss to his bedroom was a daunting task. Adam's inner strength prevailed up to the moment he lowered Hoss to his bed. As he helped his big brother settle into a comfortable position, Adam felt his muscles arguing with each movement and allowed a grimace to cross his face.

"You all right, Adam?"

"Yeah. I guess I must have pulled something," Adam explained as he worked his shoulder around in a circle. "Pa's still made of muscle you know, and carrying him out of the bunkhouse was no easy task."

Hoss hesitated, gathering his thoughts and the wherewithal to put them into words.

"You saved his life tonight, Adam. Me 'n' Joe, well. we weren't in any shape to go back into that fire. But you did. You ran right into it. You saved him."

Adam felt an unwelcome and painfully familiar sensation in his head. Hoss's words kept repeating, louder and louder. Adam was looking at Hoss, and his lips were no longer moving. Forcing his eyes shut as tightly as possible, he put his fingertips to his forehead, trying to rub away the feeling. As quickly as the mental chaos began, it was over, leaving Adam pale and confused.

"Adam? Adam! You all right?"

"Yeah, Hoss. Just tired. I'm going to check on Joe before I turn in. You need anything before I go?"

"No, Adam, thanks. I'll see you in a bit?" Hoss asked.

"I'll be here. And I expect you to heal quickly. We've got a bunkhouse to replace!"

Adam poked his head around Joe's bedroom door. His little brother slept soundly, his familiar face full of contentment. Adam entered, quietly lowered the bedroom window, and added a quilt to Joe's bedcovers. He couldn't resist smoothing a stray curl from Joe's forehead, an action that flooded his mind with memories of doing the same to the little boy he adored. Joe shifted slightly under Adam's touch, bringing a smile to Adam's face as he recalled the many early mornings he'd tried to awaken his little brother – not an easy task by any means.

"Sleep well, Joe," Adam whispered.

As he walked to his own room, Adam could hear a low murmur from downstairs. His father and Doctor Martin were deep in a conversation. Polite manners required that he say goodnight, but interrupting a private chat was rude, so Adam continued on his way.

Upon entering his room, the first thing Adam did was open the window to remove the odd, musty smell. Knowing he always preferred open windows and fresh air, he took stock of the room, searching for the cause of the slight odor.

"Strange," he thought. "It's as if the room's been closed up for some time."

Shaking his concerns away, Adam stretched his aching shoulders and searched his dresser for his white and red nightshirt, perfect weight for the temperature in his room. The neatly folded clothing seemed to fill his drawer sparsely, and Adam made a mental note to check on the laundry with Hop Sing upon his return. He settled for a different nightshirt which he tossed onto his bed before removing his soot-covered clothes. His muscles strained as he bent to remove his belt and his boots. Another series of stretches relieved a little of the stiffness, and he rolled his head to ease his neck as he walked to his table to wash up. He lifted the elegant blue and white pitcher and poured water into his matching wash bowl. Another slow roll of his neck brought his half-closed eyes to his rather plain, oval wall mirror. He lifted his hands to rub his eyes and was stunned to feel several days' worth of beard growth. When he opened his eyes completely, he instinctively dropped his right hand to his hip, in search of his gun. A stranger stood in his room staring at him through his own mirror. Grabbing for the edge of the table, Adam steadied himself, his mind racing. He almost laughed at the realization that he'd nearly drawn on himself. Clamping his eyes tightly shut, he inhaled deeply before opening them again, only to find they were insistent in their plot to deny his true image.

He opened his mouth to speak aloud and though his mind heard his words, none were uttered. _What the hell is going on?_

Running his fingers through lengths of hair, he examined his features closely, only slightly reassured by his recognizable face. Seemingly hypnotized by his appearance, he stepped away from the mirror, staggering backward across his room until his legs ran into his bed and his form collapsed, leaving him seated on the edge of the mattress.

"I could have sworn I just had my hair cut last week," he mumbled softly, "and Pa, he was there, sitting next to-"

A wave of nausea hit, receded, and then hit again, harder the second time. Adam swallowed the foul tasting bile rising in the back of his throat. Impulse forced him to stand, outweighed by his common sense, which told him standing was most likely very unwise. He stumbled back to the mirror as distant, yet familiar, voices filled his head. The voices of himself and his father were having a typical barbershop conversation. Leaning heavily against the table, he stared into the mirror, mesmerized by his reflection as it distorted and faded into a likeness of the barbershop in Virginia City. Seated in the corner chair, nearest the shop's fireplace, was his father, smiling and laughing with the other men inside. Adam felt a gentle tug on his hair as the barber worked to complete his cut, but when his fingers reached his head, he once again felt his long, uncut hair. Again, his stomach roiled, this time, accompanied by adrenaline shooting through his veins. In a split second of coherence, he wondered how in the blazes he was managing to remain standing through this insane turmoil. He chuckled aloud at the thought of his sanity disappearing into the mirror in his room, like falling into a deep, dank well never to be seen again. He closed his eyes, but the image remained. The barbershop with its familiar odors and sounds, the men laughing and spinning yarns filled with exaggeration, the feel of the leather barber's chair, his feet resting on the foot step, and his father seated next to the . . .

"Fire!" he screamed. "Pa! Pa! Where are you? I'm coming, Pa! . . . Oh God, please, help him. Pa!"

Ben managed to explode through the door and into Adam's room without any memory of vaulting up the staircase or bounding down the upstairs hallway. Hoss and Joe arrived mere seconds later, both limping, unaware of the pain from their injuries. Doctor Martin hurried in behind the others, feeling helpless and somewhat unqualified to help the young man he cared for deeply. The four terrified men stood frozen just inside Adam's bedroom as his hallucination moved forward.

"He's in there! I know he is! Someone please help me!" Adam pleaded, his face fixed in an intense stare into his mirror. "Pa! Please, Pa, answer me!"

Ben stepped forward, his face contorted in a mix of horror and desperation. Paul hurried to block his way, his face silently requesting Hoss's assistance.

"Ben!" Paul whispered. "Ben, we have to let this play out! The only thing we can do is make sure he doesn't hurt himself. Or anyone else."

"Pa! We have to do what the doc says."

"Hoss! I can't stand here and do nothing! And I can't believe that you can either!"

"Pa! We have to try . . . for a bit," Hoss begged, his wording clearly a statement meant for Paul. They would try it his way. For a bit.

Reluctantly, as Hoss and Paul lessened their grips, Ben did the hardest thing a father can do. He stood by while his son suffered.

Leaning against the doorframe for support, Joe closed his eyes to the scene, tears cascading down his cheeks.

"Pa! Where are you? . . . There's so much smoke. I can't see!" Adam blinked away invisible fumes. He was still clutching the sides of the table, still lost in the reflection of a memory. Sweat poured down his bare chest and over the muscles in his biceps as he hung on, steadying his quivering body.

"Pa! I'm coming! I'll find you!" Adam shouted, then suddenly, he clutched his head in his hands and staggered back from the mirror. "I'll find you . . . All of you! Please, please, don't cry . . . I'm coming! I'm here . . . In the playroom. I'm here. Where are you? . . . Mary! Danny! AnnaLynn! Where are you?"

The others in the room listened and watched as an unfathomable scene from the past and a shocking event of the present played out simultaneously before them.

"I can't . . . see . . . Danny? I hear you Danny! Keep calling me boy! . . . I'm coming to find you. You and your sisters! I'm com . . . Ahh!" Adam twisted and writhed, knocking over the table, spilling the wash basin and breaking the pitcher.

This was more than any of the Cartwrights or Paul Martin could stand. As they rushed forward, Adam fell to the ground, rolling left and right as he shrieked in agony.

"Adam! Son! You're all right!" Ben cried. "There's no fire, son!"

Adam fought against the strong, loving hands trying desperately to comfort him.

"I'm trapped . . . I'm on fire . . . Oh, God, I hate to . . . have to help . . . the children! Someone help them!" Adam sobbed as he fought to free himself from Ben's arms.

Ben sat on the floor next to Adam, and with Hoss's help, cradled his eldest son.

"Adam! Son, look at me. It's Pa. Please, son."

Adam's focus was clear, yet it was beyond his father, beyond his bedroom. Lost in his past, his focus held him prisoner, shackled by invisible panic, bound by shadowy desperation, fettered by indescribable guilt.

"Adam!" Ben screamed, frantic to reach his son on some level.

Adam's head slowly turned toward his father, his eyes still locked in the distance.

"Adam, we're here, all of us. Please, son, let us help you!"

"Ben, be careful," Paul warned. "Don't force-"

"Look at him, Paul! Just look at him! We're doing this MY way now!" Ben growled.

Adam snapped his eyes shut and quickly opened them, finally making contact with those of his father. As Ben drew him closer, the unspoken connections between father and son were renewed and strengthened.

"Pa? . . . The fire . . . It, it hurts . . . My back . . . I, I can't . . . help them. The children-"

"There is no fire, son. Can't you see?" Joe cried from the doorway as all heads turned toward his shaking voice. "You're in your bedroom. On the Ponderosa. There aren't any children!"

"Joe! That's enough!" Ben warned. "Let me handle this."

Immediately, Ben regretted his warning. He could only imagine how much Joe and Hoss were suffering as they watched their brother unraveling before their eyes. It was the loss of control, any control whatsoever, over Adam's situation that ripped at their hearts and fueled the desperation in their souls.

"Joe? Joe?" Adam shouted.

Joe limped forward, filled with trepidation and a longing to bring comfort to his brother. Hoss hurried to his side, lending support to Joe's bandaged leg as well as his raw, exposed emotions. Pain surged up Joe's thigh as Hoss carefully lowered him to the floor. Adam raised a hand to Joe's chest, a hand that was quickly grasped by Joe's and pressed hard against his heart.

"I'm right here, Adam. We all are. Hoss and Pa and Doc Martin. We're all here."

"Joe . . . you're hurt. The fence, the mud."

"Doc took care of it, Adam," Joe's voice cracked. "I'm gonna be fine."

Adam saw Hoss, his perfect blue eyes.

"Hoss? You're hurt, too. I don't remember-"

"I'm all right, older brother. Don't you worry none 'bout me, you hear?"

Adam snapped his head to the left, searching for his father's face.

"Pa? . . . A fire . . . Smoke . . . I, I couldn't find you. You had my . . . my music box," Adam whispered.

"That's right, son. You pulled me from the fire. You saved me, Adam."

Confusion and doubt shrouded Adam's face. After a moment's hesitation, Ben decided to listen to his heart telling him to answer any and all questions Adam might have.

"Pa?" Adam begged for an explanation.

"There was a fire in the bunkhouse," Ben said. "You were in there. Hoss and I found you and carried you out."

"But, you said I saved you, Pa!"

"You did. After Hoss and I carried you into the yard, I . . . Well, I went back into the bunkhouse," Ben explained.

"Why, Pa?"

It wasn't until that very second that Ben fully comprehended just how foolish he'd been. His sons were safe from the flames. That should have been enough. Yet he risked his own life and went back into the fire for something of material meaning – Elizabeth's music box.

"I knew your mother's music box was inside, Adam. I had to get it. I thought, maybe it would . . . bring you back to us," Ben explained. "You were gone for a long, long time Adam."

"I was? . . . I was gone. I was . . . Who is William?" Adam asked as his head began pounding.

"I think that's enough for now," Paul suggested. "Let's get him up."

As Ben and Paul lifted Adam to his feet, Hoss helped Joe to a chair in the room. Ben sat next to Adam, the comfort of the bed's mattress a welcome sensation after kneeling then sitting on the hard floor for so long.

"Who is WIlliam?" Adam demanded, rising to his feet. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Adam glanced at his father, covered in soot, hair tousled, looking worn and frail. "Sorry, Pa."

Hoss, Joe, and Ben smiled at Adam's apology for raising his voice. Even under these impossible conditions, the Adam they all knew was shining through in bits and pieces.

"Paul?"

"Ben, I wish I knew what to tell you," Doc Martin admitted.

Ben looked to his younger sons, both of whom hesitantly nodded their approval.

"It's going to take a while, son, but we'll get all of this straightened out for you," Ben promised. "And for us, as well."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Three years in the lives of Ben, Hoss, Joe, and especially Adam Cartwright were captured in discussion in nearly four hour's time. All the while, Doctor Paul Martin looked on, watching wearily, listening intently for any signs of medical or psychological breakdown among the four men he was proud to call his family. Emotions exploded several times throughout the ordeal, but as Paul was well aware, the Cartwrights had their own way of comforting, their own form of support, and their own inner strength, connected invisibly by their hearts and souls. Always ready to offer his help, his suggestions, and his expertise, Paul found that his best course of action was inaction; he simply waited to see if they would handle things with their inner power.

Reminiscing about the first eight months of Adam's adventure brought smiles of wonder and mental pictures of unseen beauty and spectacle. Adam recalled every gift and token he'd sent home, including several to Doc Martin and Sheriff Coffee. Each one came with an interesting tale of far off places in Europe, revealing Adam's journey across the continent. He recalled stories of friendships he'd made in his travels, described the many jobs he'd taken as he trekked the unknown and spoke of his growing yearning to return to the Ponderosa despite his wandering spirit.

Adam assured his family that the decline in correspondence was not by choice, but rather a product of geography. His travels eventually took him to Europe, Asia and then Northern Africa where more primitive communication made it impossible to stay in touch. His brief accounts of the vast cultural differences among the various tribes stirred the curiosity of everyone there and Adam promised to go into greater detail at a later date. He knew he needed to complete his memories so that the missing months of his life would have a chance to resurface.

After describing his three month stay in Africa, Adam told them how he'd decided to book passage back across the Atlantic. His choices were to wait another month for a ship heading to a port near Boston or board a vessel leaving the next day bound for the Canadian Territories. Something inside had told him to take the earlier voyage, so his passage was booked and he bid farewell to Africa as he watched its barren shores fade into the distance.

The voyage to Canada, Adam's second across the sometimes treacherous, rough ocean waters, was a long one. His accommodations were comfortable and he talked of several people he'd befriended along the way. Twice, storms made the journey so perilous that Adam was sure he would never reach solid ground again. He admitted, as he sat safely in his bedroom, that in moments of fear, he'd mentally said his goodbyes on both of those occasions. His father's strong hand against his broad shoulders dissolved those moments, and Adam returned the gesture with a warm, genuine smile that nearly melted Ben's heart.

He continued with a recounting of the ship anchoring off the coast of Canada and his first footsteps on Canadian soil, soil that was connected in mass to America, soil that would eventually lead him home. He made his way to Montreal where he spent several weeks working at a logging camp, earning enough money for the railroad passage south to Hamilton. There, he performed odd jobs from working at a mill to running a small blacksmith shop while the owner recuperated from an injury.

His next stop of length was in Manitoba Territory, a place called Turtle Mountain. Since the fur trade and trapping were the main sources of employment, Adam sought out a job as a handyman in a small orphanage at the base of the mountain. One evening, during his second week of employment, he came across one of the younger children, a boy named Danny. The memory was as clear in Adam's mind as if it had taken place just moments before . . .

_As he passed by the large, rectangular space that served as a bedroom, Adam first noticed the open door that revealed the nine mattresses lined up on the floor along the wall. The sound of happy voices and young-hearted laughter filtered in from outside through the open window. Inside, Danny sat on the floor, his weight leaning heavily on the side of the blanket-covered mattress he shared nightly with his sister Mary. His knees were drawn up to his chin, and he stared straight ahead._

_"__Danny? Why aren't you outside playing with the others?" Adam asked._

_Danny's eyes dropped and his eight-year-old form sagged further toward the floor. _

_"__Did you hear me?"_

_"__Yes, sir," Danny reluctantly replied._

_"__Well? Why are you in here when the rest of the children are outside having fun?" Adam asked as he stepped into the room._

_"__Don't wanna," Danny mumbled._

_Adam moved closer and noticed the mud stain and jagged tear in the left knee of Danny's pants._

_"__Mind if I work in here for a bit?" Adam asked as he swung the door on its squeaky hinges and examined the frame as he pushed it closed. "I understand the door sticks and I'd like to finish it this afternoon."_

_"__Yes, sir," Danny replied, his eyes still staring at the opposite wall._

_Adam smiled as he examined the lock on the door, impressed by Danny's politeness in the face of whatever was troubling him. After several minutes of silence, Adam pressed the issue at hand._

_"__Danny, I could use an extra hand over here," he hinted, "if you've got a minute."_

_"__Yes, sir."_

_Try as he might, Adam managed to get only a few words from Danny as the two made the repairs on the door. His determination, however, was not squelched._

_"__Let's see if we were successful, shall we?" Adam asked._

_"__Yes, sir," Danny replied._

_"__You wait in the hall 'til I close the door, then try and open it." Adam instructed._

_Danny did as he was told, as usual, and the door opened with no resistance at all. A small, tight smile crossed the young boy's face as he looked up at Adam._

_"__Danny, I'd like to invite you to help me out anytime you want! You're quite a quick study!" Adam praised._

_"__I'm a what?"_

_Adam laughed. "A quick study. That's someone who observes and learns quickly. You can be my apprentice."_

_"__I can be your what?"_

_Laughing once again, Adam took Danny by the hand and led him to the kitchen._

_"__My apprentice. You can learn all about fixing things by helping me. Then, someday when you're older, you can fix all sorts of things by yourself. Would you like that?"_

_"__Yes, sir!" Danny answered, enthusiasm spreading the smile across his face._

_Adam poured two glasses of lemonade and joined Danny at the kitchen table. Small for his age, Danny wrapped his little hands around the large glass. Instantly, in his mind, Adam saw Little Joe and remembered the many times he'd watched his little brother struggle with his size and the limits others had attempted to put on him because of it. Danny gulped half the lemonade before sitting the glass on the old, scratched and worn table._

_"__Mr. Cartwright?"_

_"__Yes, Danny?"_

_"__You still wanna know why I was sittin' in the bedroom?" Danny asked shyly._

_"__Only if you want me to know, Danny," Adam replied._

Danny and his little sister Mary had spent the last three months of their young lives in the orphanage. The tale of horror that brought them there had been put together piecemeal, the only survivors of the Indian raid being Danny and Mary themselves. The only real details the children's minds contained were the facts that their parents and older brother had been murdered, mercifully, in another room of their house. Danny had taken on the role of protector and rarely allowed Mary to stray from his sight. Mary, barely four-years-old, was taking the ordeal in stride, enjoying the company of the other children at the orphanage and content to be kept busy and active as a means of forgetting the awful event . . .

_Adam had listened intently as Danny spoke._

_"__We was all outside, playin' hide n' seek. Mary likes that game, but she don't know how ta be real quiet when she's hidin'. Mr. Cartwright? Ya figure that's 'cause she's real little or 'cause she's a girl?" Danny asked, his voice full of sincerity._

_Adam choked down a giggle as he recalled trying to read to Mary the day before. The sweet, little bundle of energy found it impossible to keep still and even more so to keep quiet!_

_"__Danny, I think if you keep reminding Mary of the rules for playing hide n' seek, she'll learn from your example."_

_"__Ya mean . . . Mary can be my . . . my appremice, Mr. Cartwright?" Danny asked, his circular brown eyes looking up at Adam with awe and respect._

_This time, Adam did chuckle as he tousled the boy's blonde hair._

_"__Apprentice. And yes, Danny, she can be your apprentice while you teach her how to play games!" Adam said, full of pride. "So, what happened this afternoon while you were playing?"_

_Danny explained that he was, as always, hiding with Mary. She was quite a timid young thing, and living at the orphanage coupled with her inability to comprehend where her parents had gone had deepened her insecurities. Protective as Danny was of late, when she'd continued to whisper at an unusually high volume during the game, he'd begun to lose patience. Of all the children hiding, Thomas found them first and immediately teased Danny about the ease with which he and Mary had been found – all because of Mary's whispering. The scene escalated when other children came out of hiding and joined in the sing-song banter._

_"__Can you tell me what they were saying, Danny?" Adam asked._

_Danny hesitated as his eyes held their downward stare. _

_"__They were callin' me a baby 'cause . . . 'cause I always play with Mary!"_

_Adam's memory once again traveled back to the time when he felt responsible for both Hoss and Joe. _

_"__Now tell me, Danny. Do you like playing with Mary?"_

_"__Yeah! I mean, yes, sir. She's my sister 'n' Mama used ta . . . Well, it's my job now ta take care a her," Danny announced as he sat taller and straighter in the kitchen chair._

_With a reassuring nod, Adam acknowledged the young boy's desire to become parent as well as brother to his little sister. Adam had experienced the same feelings of need and fear as well as the emotional turmoil of being forced into an adult position as a young child. He knew exactly how Danny felt about caring for his sister, for he'd felt that way when caring for Hoss when Inger was killed. But Adam had been fortunate enough to have his father. Danny was alone._

_"__How'd you tear your pants?" Adam inquired._

_Now Danny became angry. An anger that Adam recognized from his own childhood as he, Hoss and their father traveled west._

_"__Thomas and the other kids started sayin' I had ta grow up n' they knew just how to make me. Said they'd make me stop sleepin' on the mattress with Mary. Said she'd have ta sleep all by herself so I wouldn't be a baby no more."_

_Adam was impressed by Danny's control as he told his story._

_"__When Mary heard that, she started in ta cryin' 'cause she was scared. Mr. Cartwright, I don't like ta see Mary cryin'. And when Thomas started laughin' at her, well, that was the last straw!" _

_Danny's brave façade was crumbling and Adam could see the true eight-year-old boy coming to the surface._

_"__What happened, Danny?"_

_"__I yelled at Thomas. I told him ta stop makin' Mary cry or I'd clobber him!...He called Mary a 'scaredy cat' so I shoved him. And I'm not sorry, Mr. Cartwright. I'm not!"_

_"__How did your pants get ripped, Danny?"_

_"__AnnaLynn came over 'n' she was huggin' Mary…ya know…tryin' to get her ta stop cryin'. Thomas started yellin' that I needed AnnaLynn ta help me! A girl, Mr. Cartwright! He said I needed a girl ta defend me! So I clobbered him. And my pants got ripped when we was rollin' around in the mud. Miss Mercy came out 'n' stopped the fight. Thomas and me, we both got extra chores tomorrow. But I'm not sorry, Mr. Cartwright. Nobody messes with my little sister 'n' gets away with it!"_

_As proud as Adam was that little Danny had protected his sister's honor, he knew he had to address the fighting. He wished his father were there. Ben Cartwright always knew what to say at times like these and though he tried, Adam couldn't manage to recall appropriate words of wisdom from his past._

_His dilemma was ended when several of the children clamored into the kitchen looking for lemonade and cookies. Among them were Mary and AnnaLynn. _

_"__Danny, are you going to sleep on the mattress with Mary tonight?" AnnaLynn asked. " Because she can sleep with me if you want her to. Sally says she'll trade beds with me, then Mary and I can sleep right next to you. Mary won't be scared that the Indians will come for her if she knows you're right beside us."_

_Adam watched Danny closely and was suddenly overcome with emotion when the young boy mirrored a posture and facial expression that Adam himself had assumed many times as a young boy; a stance and attitude that to Adam meant his pa had proposed a solution that would allow him to save face and still manage to keep watch over his beloved younger brothers._

_"__Danny, sounds to me like AnnaLynn has a fine idea there…As long as you think it would be alright with Mary," Adam said._

_"__Mary? Would you like ta sleep next to me, on a mattress with AnnaLynn?" Danny asked._

_"__You pwomise ta be nexa me, Danny?" Mary said in a tiny, endearing voice. _

_"__Sure, Mary. I promise!" Danny assured._

_"__NannaLymm? Can I pwease have my dolly in our bed?"_

_"__Absolutely! There's lots of room for her, Sweetie!" AnnaLynn promised as she lifted Mary into her arms, dolly and all._


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

As Adam recounted the story of the children to Hoss, Joe, Paul, and his father, his slight headache gradually built to a throbbing pain. It was obvious to all that these orphaned children had taken up residence deep within Adam's heart. It was also evident that they in some way held the key to the mystery of 'William'. At Ben's suggestion, Adam agreed to a brief pause in his quest to fill in the blank spots of his memory. Paul went downstairs and returned with a tray of glasses and brandy while the family took a break from the intensity of the evening.

After a few minutes, as Adam continued his story, the others wondered what, if anything this particular story had to do with whatever had happened to Adam. Several 'eye looks' from Paul let them know that he felt Adam should be allowed to ramble for as long as he needed. So the story once again took shape in Adam's mind and through his telling, passed to the anxious men in the room.

AnnaLynn's solution had solved most of Danny's troubles with the other boys. She adopted Mary, as much as an eleven-year-old can adopt a four-year-old. The perfect example for a little one to strive to emulate, AnnaLynn became a big sister, a mother and a role model in a matter of days. Wise beyond her years, she continued to approach Danny and include him in any and all decisions involving his baby sister, even simple decisions like delaying her naptime one day so that she could watch a family of rabbits as they played nearby. Danny was able to maintain his role as big brother and protector, all the while unaware of the growing influence of AnnaLynn's extraordinary wisdom.

"Mercy said she'd never seen a young lady with as much presence as AnnaLynn possessed," Adam said, his eyes sparkling at the mention of her name, a sparkle that was pulled beneath waves of tears as they filled his eyes. "She was a remarkable woman. You know, she had to barter or beg for just about everything she needed to provide for those children. Most of them were victims of Indian raids, and a few had survived outbreaks that took both parents. She ran the only orphanage in the area so they all ended up with her. She was a remarkable woman."

Adam's mind took him somewhere private as a sense of loss beyond belief filled his being.

"There was a picnic that day. We took them fishing, swimming . . . and there was food." He smiled. "AnnaLynn's cookies . . . The children were laughing and playing . . . Danny and Mary were coming down with something. Mercy said it was probably just a cold."

Adam stood and found himself at the window before he even realized he was taking steps.

"AnnaLynn offered to take them home. It was dusk and the chilly night air was moving in. Mary was exhausted, nearly asleep in my arms." Adam touched his skin. "Her dark hair tickled my neck. Danny didn't want to go home before everyone else, but AnnaLynn convinced him it was best for Mary . . . God, that girl had a way about her . . . ."

Adam's voice was filled with pride as he spoke of the children - pride, and unspeakable sadness.

"She took Mary from my arms." Adam hugged himself, desperately trying to fill the void against his chest. "And she, Mary, and Danny walked back to the orphanage." Adam gasped. "Oh God, if only I had gone with them!"

"Adam? Son?"

With his sullen eyes shadowed by the moonlight steaming through the window, Adam turned slowly to face his father. He raised his hands to the throbbing areas of his temples and Ben laid a strong, comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Son?"

"I can still feel her hair . . . soft and cool against my arms," Adam whispered. "And Danny's hand . . . his little hand," he continued as he lifted his own, strong and trembling, in front of his face. "I can feel his fingers entwining with mine." Adam's knees threatened to betray him. Before his father could react, Adam made his way back to his bed. "Why did we let AnnaLynn take them back? Why. . . ?"

_"__Be sure Danny drinks some water before you put him to bed. And take an extra blanket from the chest if you need to," Mercy said._

_"__Yes, Miss Mercy. I'll take good care of them both," AnnaLynn promised._

_"__We'll be along shortly, AnnaLynn. And thank you," Adam added._

"That was the last thing I ever said to her." Adam struggled for breath. "I . . . thanked . . . her. I thanked her for taking Danny and Mary back home. Back home to . . ."

Everyone knew what the last word would have been. Adam's sudden silence, the glazed stare from his eyes, and the slight rocking motion of his upper body frightened Ben. From the far side of the room, thinking the worst yet praying for the best, Paul approached Adam, wondering if it would be Adam or William that required his treatment.

Before Paul could reach out to him, Adam's deep baritone voice startled the silence in the room.

"I'm all right, Paul. I need to finish this. I just wish that once I do, it would vanish from my memory."

Paul moved away, but settled closer to Adam this time. He wanted to be proud of Adam for his bravery in recounting this tragic ordeal, but his training, though limited as far as amnesia, made him wary of any premature celebrations.

"We finished up with the picnic. You might not believe this, but the other children, including Thomas, asked if we could end the day early and head back to check on Danny! Such good, considerate children. But when they asked, Mercy and I, we said . . . God, help us, we said 'no', that we were sure AnnaLynn was taking good care of him, that Danny wouldn't want us to end the day early because of him." Adam emptied his second glass of brandy before continuing. "If only we had."

Silence followed for endless seconds.

"Later, Mercy and the children were all packed and ready to head back home. I could tell she wanted to hurry back and check in on the others. I offered to stay behind for a few minutes to make sure that the campfire's embers were completely out. Ironic. I was preventing the spread of flames while . . . " Adam's voice, filled with more anger than his family had ever imagined possible, spit his words out with fierceness and disgust.

"I don't know exactly what happened before I arrived. I was walking down the path, still out of sight of the orphanage, when I first smelled the scorched wood. That close to several farms and homesteads, I didn't really think much of it. It was feeling like a chilly night, so lots of folks would have their fireplaces and stoves burning at night. But when I rounded the top of the hill, I saw a strange glow in the sky." Adam shivered. "Then I saw the building . . . and the flames."

_"__My God, no!" Adam screamed. Running toward the chaos, the whole world seemed to be in slow motion. No matter how much ground he covered, he felt as if he were right back at the top of the hill over and over again. When he reached the back yard, nightmarish sounds competed with the crackling of the fire. Screams, begging for help. Cries of terror and resignation from those watching the destruction._

_"__AnnaLynn! Danny! Mary! Can you hear me?" Mercy cried as she tried to wrap her arms around the children in the yard. "No! Stay here, children! You can't go in there!" _

_"__Mercy!" Adam shouted as he bounded into the front yard._

_"__Adam! Adam, they're inside! Danny and Mary and AnnaLynn!"_

_Mercy grabbed the oldest child and gave instructions that only he could hear. Then she tore off across the yard toward the burning home. _

_So many details flew at Adam. Three children trapped inside, a young boy left to console and protect five terrified, sobbing, younger children, and Mercy, a woman who Adam secretly loved more deeply than any woman before, was mere feet away from plunging head-first into murderous flames. _


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"I couldn't catch her. She was as desperate to save those children as I was to save them all. So I tied my bandana over my mouth and nose and I went in after her," Adam paused, gathering his emotions. "Funny thing is . . . I remember thinking 'this fire is really hot'! Can you imagine? I'm inside a burning building. I have no idea if the children are together or in different places or even . . . even alive. I don't know which way Mercy went once she was inside. And I'm having a discussion with myself about the temperature of the flames!"

Joe clamped his eyes shut trying to erase the vision of his brother in the midst of the blaze. Hoss thought of the scars on Adam's back and prayed that Adam would tell them he'd been unconscious when it happened. Ben felt the remnants of adrenaline in his own body surging as he remembered searching for Adam in the burning bunkhouse just hours ago.

"I remember calling, screaming their names. Screaming over and over until my voice abandoned me. At least, I thought it had. But it was the roar of the fire. The deafening sound of destruction. As if the inanimate objects in the room were crying out in pain as the flames consumed them."

Ben watched as Adam unknowingly gripped the blanket on the bed with his hands, his knuckles fading to white as he clutched with all his strength.

"I felt my way to the staircase, figuring that AnnaLynn would've been back long enough to have taken Danny and Mary up to bed. I'd climbed six steps. Eight more to go. Ha. Until that moment, I hadn't realized I knew there were fourteen steps. There were no flames in front of me. Just thick, stinging smoke. I started to climb faster. If the fire had started downstairs, and they were upstairs, there was a good chance that the children were still alive. I'd gone just three steps when I lost my balance. I started to fall, to tumble down the steps. I remember hitting my head, bending my arm the wrong way and feeling my ankle snap. And then I stopped falling."

Adam looked down at his hands, hands clenched so tightly that a small trickle of blood trailed from beneath his left thumb, ran past his fingers, and dripped onto the bed. He released the wrinkled, stained blanket, opened his fingers, and stared at the wound.

"Here, let me take care of that, Adam," Paul said calmly. Quickly, he cleaned and dressed the minor wound as Hoss, Joe, and Ben watched in silence.

"I don't think I lost consciousness. I remember feeling pain. Feeling . . . confused. I stood, hanging on the railing. I hopped up the stairs. My ankle must have been twisted, maybe broken. Then I heard it. Faint sounds. Sounds I had to concentrate on to hear. But I was wasting time trying to listen. I hobbled up further and finally recognized that those sounds were not the children or Mercy. They were the flames. The damned flames masquerading as voices. I moved up another step, and another. And then I found her. I hadn't lost my balance before. I'd tripped over Mercy. She was unconscious. Collapsed on the staircase."

Adam reached for the brandy carafe. He raised it an inch of so off the table, but his hand was trembling fiercely. Gently, Ben placed his hand atop Adam's. The strength from that pairing sent a welcomed surge of composure through Adam. Together, father and son expertly poured a glass of brandy.

Ben longed to take his son in his arms as he had so many times before. Times when Adam was a child and needed his father's expression of love. Times when Ben, as a father, needed young Adam's comforting hand. Too long ago, those 'times' had all but disappeared, the last being the day Adam had left the Ponderosa. As the carafe's bottom touched the tray, Ben hesitated removing his hand. Adam stared at the carafe, at his father's hand atop his. Turning, looking into Ben's eyes, Adam nodded, Ben smiled and then slowly removed his hand. In the corner of the room, Hoss allowed a slight tug on the corners of his mouth as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Adam downed the brandy, took a deep breath, and continued the story of that awful night.

"It never even crossed my mind to check for a pulse, to see if she was alive. I just somehow knew she was. I lifted her, held her close, and carried her down the stairs and out into the yard."

"But your ankle was broken! How did you-"

"I don't know, Joe. I don't remember feeling any physical pain. I just had to get Mercy out of that building and nothing was going to stop me. I laid her down next to the children, told them to stay with her, and ran back inside. I managed to get upstairs. The smoke was dense, so dense, I could feel it pressing against my every move, trying to fight me, to stop me from searching for the children. I checked everywhere. I touched everything, hoping to feel a hand or a leg . . . I tried, Pa! For God knows how long, I tried! I knew where I was, which room I mean, at all times. I even searched my own room and there was no reason they would've gone in there. But I had to, Pa, I just had to . . . I tried . . ."

Adam's body quivered as the memory faded. He coughed, his mind summoning the acrid smell of the burning wood. For Adam alone, the temperature in his Ponderosa bedroom climbed to that of the orphanage inferno. His chest felt heavy as he struggled for every breath.

Immediately, Paul was on his feet, Hoss rose from his chair, and Ben reached for Adam's hand. In the darkened corner of the room, Joe felt himself shrink further into his chair.

As quickly as the all encompassing memories had come, they seemed to be gone, and in a moment of strength, Adam continued the story.

"I remember thinking, the kitchen. Maybe AnnaLynn and the children were in the kitchen! I hurried to the stairs and felt a stabbing pain in my ankle. I started down the steps. I was holding on to the railing because I couldn't see through the smoke. I took another step and the railing snapped. I reached for the wall but I was already free-falling sideways off of the staircase.

It took so long for me to land and when I did, I landed on the floor. It was burning. I was burning. Pain. So much pain. And I remember begging, God, please spare those children from this pain."

Adam's head was reeling, tears streamed down his face, and he rocked slowly back and forth as he stared straight ahead. Paul reminded him that he could stop and rest whenever he needed, but Adam insisted on remembering the rest of the story.

"I must have passed out and the next thing I remember is lying in the grass outside, my back burning, pain pulsing through me. I lifted my head and saw Mercy. She must have dragged me from the fire. It had to have been her. None of the children were strong enough.

"She brushed the hair on my forehead with her soft, cool hand. She smiled. Covered with dirt and soot, dress torn and singed, her hair pulled loose from its clips. She was more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen. And then . . . she was gone. I tried to scream to her, but no sound came out. She ran across the grassy yard and back into the orphanage. And she was gone."

"I went back inside after her. I had to! I somehow made it to the kitchen and then, nothing. That's all I remember. " Once again, the pain inside Adam's head grew nearly unbearable. "I remember the fire . . . the fire in the orphanage . . . No, wait. The fire was in the bunkhouse! It was here! And Pa! You were trapped inside! I went in after you. I-"

"You saved my life, Adam. You carried me from the bunkhouse. You saved my life."

Adam abruptly stood, his stance one of defense, as if Ben, Joe, Hoss, and Paul were the enemy trying to capture him. He grabbed his head and closed his eyes, attempting to shake off the confusion and shed his pain. Backing away from the rest of his family, he stumbled and nearly fell.

Ben was on his feet and his first movement toward Adam brought on an unexpected rage.

"Stop! Don't come any closer! I don't, I don't know . . . know . . ."

He looked from Hoss to Joe, his eyes admitting no recognition at all. Paul, too, was a stranger to him. And his father, halted mid-step by his son's pleas, had a face that triggered no memories at all.

Adam turned away from the desperate, pleading faces of the strangers in the room. When he opened his eyes, he was face to face with another stranger looking back at him. A mirror reflecting features, hair and clothing that meant nothing to the bewildered man staring back at them through tear-filled eyes.

"I don't know . . . " he whispered before taking several forced steps toward the image. "I . . . I woke up in the dark. The room was hot. I was on my stomach. My back! God, it hurt. And my head."

Ben started to step toward his son and immediately felt Paul's hand on his shoulder. No words were needed as the two men stole a glance at each other before returning their full attention to the other side of the room. Adam moved closer to the mirror. He watched as his reflection touched its hair, foreign yet familiar.

"I lifted my head. I was in a cell! And there were others. I tried to push myself up but my back . . . God how it hurt. I rolled to my side, my legs fell to the floor. I sat up and the room swirled and blurred . . . I vomited on the dirt floor.

"I was at the cell bars. Don't remember getting there. I hung onto them but the room kept turning against itself. I heard laughter. Men in other cells were laughing at me. The sounds, banging on the bars. The smell. Urine and waste. The place reeked of so many horrid smells. I must have passed out. I don't know how I got to the bunk. There were insects crawling on it. My God, what did I do? Why was I there?" Adam screamed as he lunged forward, smashing the hanging mirror. Before anyone could reach him he turned sharply, holding his bloodied hands, shards of glass protruding from the wounds, in front of his face.

With no resistance whatsoever, Paul and Ben guided Adam to the bed and Paul set in to treating Adam's injuries.

Hoss was angry. He looked at Joe, agreement flowing between them. The anger rising within Adam's younger brothers was sparked by the thought that someone could have treated anyone, let alone their brother, with such contemptible conditions. Before either of them could speak up, Adam revealed more of his horrible experience.

"I don't understand. Why are you helping me? I don't even know where I am or who you are. If I deserved to be in that cell with those others, why would anyone want to help me?"

Before Paul could stop him, Ben spoke up. "We don't believe you deserved to be there. We want to help you, to let you remember, and do what we can to clear all of this up and set things right. Please, tell us what you remember next."

Something in Ben's voice convinced Adam that he was a man to be trusted. Looking from Hoss to Joe, he realized he was safe, even though he had no idea why.

"The guard. He brought me food. Stale bread, dirty water. He talked to me. Told me he was sorry he couldn't get a doc for me. I asked him where I was, and he laughed. 'You're in prison, of course!' I begged him to tell me what I did, why I was there. He said I murdered a man, that I was found kneeling over the body with a knife in my hand," Adam said as he raised his bandaged left hand, staring at it as if it was foreign to him. "I don't remember . . ."

Adam winced, his head aching with every movement.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Paul said as he finished wrapping Adam's right hand.

"You did fine, sir. And thank you. It's just my head. It's pounding and . . . A newspaper! He had a newspaper. The guard, I mean. He sat in a chair at the end of the hallway. The cells were dark, but he had a lamp by the chair. Some of the others, the other prisoners, they yelled at him to be quiet, to stop reading aloud. But I heard him. He was reading an article by some reporter about a fire. His name was Andrew Williams. An orphanage fire in some nearby town. A woman, a man, and three children died in the fire. They all burned to . . . A woman, three children . . . "

Adam froze, unable to speak. Tears welled in his eyes, and his body was rocked with silent sobs.

Hoss was first on his feet, limping toward Adam's bed. Joe watched as his oldest brother, his hero, crumbled in front of his eyes.

"I listened as the guard read, and I remembered. Mercy. Why did she have to go back inside? Mary, Danny, AnnaLynn! I never found them. I tried! I tried so hard! Then everything in the cell went black. When I came to, there was someone with me. A doctor. At least, they said he was one. Said the only reason he was there was because the town wanted me to hang, not die in my cell. He asked me my name, and I couldn't remember! He kept asking. I wanted his help, for my back and my aching head, so I said the first name that came to mind. 'William'."

The tragic tale unfolded as Adam slipped pieces of the puzzle together for his family as well as himself. Some of the pieces formed solid memories, while others remained connected, but with jagged edges that seemed to fit nowhere. One section was completed when he remembered crawling through the smoky fog to the orphanage's kitchen door. Voices of children begging for help, calling out to Miss Mercy had drawn him out into the back yard and further, into the woods. The memories went blank until he awakened in the cell, burned, bleeding, and barely aware of his surroundings. The newspaper's telling of the neighboring town's fire had confirmed Adam's greatest fears: Mercy, Danny, Mary, and AnnaLynn were gone, and the agony of that realization buried Adam deep inside himself. Unable to cope with his loss, suffering with untreated burns and injuries, William was born.

For him, the circumstances of his incarceration were presented by way of verbal abuse from the guards and the prisoners. They claimed he'd stabbed a man, Andy Simmons, the loveable town drunk. Adam had, of course, denied the charges, believing himself incapable of murder. But his memory loss, 'amnesia' they'd called it, was considered a fanciful attempt at absolution by the backwoods town judge, an official who also happened to be Andy Simmons' brother-in-law. The guards kept the prisoners well-informed by passing along bits and pieces of news they deemed relevant. None of the prisoners actually knew what might be false or what could be true.

One wretched afternoon, amid sweltering heat and stagnant, foul air, the inmates heard the faint sounds of pounding mixed with excited voices in the distance. A few hours later, the hammering stopped, and although everyone knew what the sound implied, until then, no one had voiced the actual words.

_"__Well, well, well, William! It seems that tomorrow'll be an eventful yet short-lived day for you! What do you say fellas, a hangin's something ev'ryone looks forward to, isn't it? Ev'ryone 'cept William that is!" _

"Funny, isn't it?" Adam said, staring up at his father. "I can remember what that guard said verbatim, but other things are clouded and even more is just gone!"

Paul handed Adam a glass of water, and the look on the doctor's face left no question in Adam's mind: he was to drink it.

"Thank you," Adam said as sat the empty glass on the bedside table.

"Do you remember anything else about that . . . that hell-hole?" Joe asked, anger rising in his voice.

Adam turned toward the young man who exuded an inner strength that made Adam smile. For someone of so few years and such slight stature, he was convinced that the boy was a force to be reckoned with and an ally he would be proud to fight alongside of any day.

"I do remember more. I have no idea what time of day or night it actually happened, but I was lying in my bunk, looking at the ceiling. You know how when you stare at something long enough, you sometimes see shapes in the flaws of the surface? I was staring for hours, facing the blankness of my life as it passed me by. I remember thinking 'this is wrong'. Every memory I had of my life had taken place in those few days in that filthy cell. Nothing before. Nothing! A blank canvas on that wretched ceiling, and all my mind could paint was the inside of that damned cell!"

Ben reached a hesitating hand toward Adam, wanting so badly to comfort him. The movement did not go unnoticed. Adam placed his hand atop of Ben's, flashed a brief smile. "Pa."

It seemed once again, Adam was in the present.

"I started to hallucinate. At least, I thought I was. My brain brushed colorful images onto the ceiling. At the time, I had no idea what the images were. But now . . ." Adam's headache flared once again, pulsing against his temples.

Ben tightened his grip on his son's arm and called his name. The calming sound of Ben's voice washed over Adam, warming his heart and soothing his fears.

"I heard all of you calling out to me. Flashes of memory, voices from my past. At the time, they just confused me more, but at the same time, there was a familiarity and a reassurance. I stared at that ceiling and those impressions for hours, not knowing what any of it meant. I must have been lost in reflection because I didn't even hear the guard and the sheriff walk into the hallway."

Adam made his way across the bedroom to the open window. Rays of moonlight streamed in from the sky, illuminating his face as he looked out at the stars. His sudden slow, nervous laugh startled his family, and as the slight rumble of sound grew, worry fell across everyone else in the room.

"I'm sorry. It's just so ridiculous. So ridiculously unreal!"

Adam's laughter, normally contagious to his brothers and father, exploded around them in a frightening blast of alarm. Paul reached into his bag, feeling for his tranquilizing powder, ready to subdue Adam if the need arose.

"They walked up to my cell, and I just laid there on the bunk waiting to be told that it was time for a hanging and I was the main event!"

After another burst of laughter, Adam closed his eyes and enjoyed the breeze blowing across his face.

"The guard unlocked the cell door, he and the sheriff walked inside, and he said, 'William, as Sheriff of Hampton, I hereby release you and absolve you of all charges. Son, you're free to go.'

"The images on the ceiling vanished. I remember the other prisoners weighing in loudly, protesting my release.

"I remember being confused and saying, 'I don't understand! I'm free? I'm not going to be-' and then the Sheriff interrupted me. Like he had something else he needed to get to, and my questions were taking too much of his time."

"'That's right," the sheriff said. "We found the man who murdered Andy Simmons. He gave us a full confession. My apologies, son. You're free to go.'"

This time, Adam's laughter was a combination of joy and tears. Leaning against the wall for support, he continued to laugh, loudly.

"Don't you get it? It's funny. No, it's hysterical! I was free to go. To go where? I was 'William'. No past, no memories, no last name. Free to go where?" Adam blinked back his tear-filled eyes, choking down the giggling that kept escaping from deep within. If he hadn't been propped against the wall, he knew he would have fainted as the room began spinning out of control. 

This time it was Hoss who was moving before Adam even realized he'd begun sliding along the wall. With his muscular arm around Adam's waist, Hoss guided him across the room and into a chair.

"Thanks, Hoss," Adam said as he looked into Hoss's kind, blue eyes.

Momentarily overcome by Adam's recognition, the only acknowledgement the big man could muster was a gentle pat on Adam's shoulder. Before Hoss was able to return to his seat, Adam continued on with the final details of the past few weeks.

"The little bit of my clothing not burned in the fire had been destroyed when I was sentenced to hang. The sheriff took pity on me and arranged for something for me to wear other than the prison clothes. My horse had been sold, and the sheriff gave me the money they'd gotten for him. They did still have my gun and my holster; at least they told me they were mine. And that was it. I was free to go. I walked out, past the other cells with their captives spouting obscenities, spitting at me and demanding their own release.

"When I stepped outside for the first time, the brightness of the cloudy day was more than my eyes could stand. I remember leaning against the wall just outside the prison door with my eyes clamped shut. It took me, maybe, ten minutes before I could open them completely. I was hungry, thirsty and exhausted. My back ached and stung as the fabric of my shirt rubbed against the raw skin. I had to find a place where I could rest, to think about what to do, where to go. I had no idea if anyone in the town would talk to me, serve me, help me in any way. So, I started walking toward the trees. They seemed to be calling me. I figured I'd find a secluded spot to rest and contemplate my immediate future."

Adam laughed, A controlled, ironic laugh.

"I walked around the building and there it was. The gallows. And I strolled right on by. I remember noticing several design flaws in the construction of the lower supports. I even wondered to myself if it would have withstood the weight of two or three full-grown men. I started laughing as I walked on. I had this mental picture of the hangman standing next to the sheriff and me, with the noose around my neck, and the whole damn thing collapsing beneath us."

Ben closed his eyes at the thought of his son, noose around his neck, about to be hanged with no one there to support him. He, Joe, and Hoss failed to acknowledge the humor of the scene Adam had played out in his head. All they could grasp was how alone he must have felt.

"I'm sorry. I guess it really isn't all that funny. But at the time . . . I found a place about a mile into the woods, made myself as comfortable as I could, and after a while, I nodded off. When I woke up, I remember thinking how wonderful the air smelled. Fresh and wild, free and clean. I was so hungry and there were some blackberries nearby-"

"Adam, you don't like blackberries!" Joe interrupted.

"I know, Little Joe. But I ate them. Every last one I could find."

Joe smiled and Adam's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his little brother's eyebrows scrunching upward as the grin grew on his face.

"So, then, I walked. I had no idea where I was going or even if I was headed toward a town or just deeper into the Canadian wilderness."

Ben tilted his head in a familiar pose and Adam knew what he was thinking.

"I know, Pa. You taught me better than that. Wandering around alone in the woods . . . But William, he didn't know any better."

Ben was embarrassed that he'd reacted with a reprimand, and immediately righted his head and nodded.

"I wound up in a small logging town, found a doctor that would treat me and accept doing some chores as payment. The livery owner and I worked out a deal for mucking the stalls and grooming the horses, and I slept in his loft for three nights. I earned my meals working in the saloon repairing the staircase and doing odds and ends. Eventually, I bought a horse and moved on. After that, the places I went and things I did are all pretty fuzzy. I don't think I ever stayed in one place for very long. But I do remember that I wanted to go south. South and west. Something was drawing me this way. If only I'd been able to remember . . . "

The hectic sounds of early morning birds filtered in through the open bedroom window. The sun had not yet climbed above the horizon, but the anticipation of its warmth and glow excited the small creatures into their daily frenzy. No one in the room was sure how long ago the sweet music had begun. Adam's pause as he and the others digested the details of his experiences allowed the sounds to alert them all that daybreak was upon them.

"There are small bits and pieces of people and places. No names and no real time-frame to base things on. I just remember heading out and doing whatever I had to do to get by and keep on moving. I do remember a small town where I ran a general store while the owner recovered from a broken leg. Bison-something, I can't recall the whole name. And a town, more like a village really, located along a large lake. I lived on fish and slept on my bedroll for a quite a while. I worked in a mine there. Silver Flats was the name of the settlement, but I'm not even sure if the name was official. There was a wonderful woman. She ran a hotel. No, a boarding house. Wait, that wasn't in Silver Flats though."

Hoss and Joe exchanged knowing glances as Adam excitedly described Mrs. Baughman and her boarding house near Carson City.

"Strawberries. I remember strawberries!" Adam smiled. "I ate them on a porch outlined with lovely flowers. And I remember setting up camp along the lake."

Adam jumped to his feet and crossed toward Hoss and Joe.

"And the two of you! You were there, but . . . but I didn't know who you were, did I?"

Hoss cleared his dry throat and stole a quick look at a nodding Paul before answering.

"We were there, Adam. Only you were still thinkin' you were William."

"Well, why didn't you set me straight? Why didn't you tell me who you were? Who I am?" Adam demanded as he clenched his teeth and hands in frustration.

"Adam, we weren't sure it was you at first, and then we didn't want you takin' off if you got spooked," Hoss explained. "We figured we'd follow you 'n' let things happen sorta natural-like."

"Well, you're plan nearly got me and Pa killed in the bunkhouse fire! I can't believe none of you told me the truth!" Adam's anger rose as he closed the distance between Hoss and himself. Drawing his clenched fist tighter, he lifted his muscular arm up and back, ready to land a punch to Hoss's substantial jaw. "You lied, you son-of-a-"

"Adam!" Ben roared, the single word freezing Adam's arm in mid swing.

Slowly and deliberately, Adam lowered his arm never taking his eyes off his brother's stunned face. "Hoss? . . . Hoss, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Adam." Hoss reached a hand to Adam's shoulder.

Ben was on his feet and as he crossed the room, Joe stood beside his brothers.

"The important thing is that we're together now, and we'll help each other understand as much as we can from the past few years. Adam, you're home now, son."

Ben was interrupted when from the yard outside, a rooster proudly announced daybreak.

Smiling, Adam crossed his arms, scratched the back of his neck, and let out one soft giggle.

"Well, Hoss, if you aren't gonna say it, I am. It's morning, and I'm starving!"

Laughter filled the room as the tension that had been rising and falling throughout the night seemed to vanish, carried through the opened window on the fresh morning breeze.

~finis~


End file.
